Missing Light: Five Things that Never Happened to Vir Cotto
Summary: A life and a bond of love explored through five alternatives. AU, Darkfic, Character Death. Please R/R.
Spoilers: Knowledge of all five seasons and the Legions of Fire trilogy is assumed.
Author's Notes: I was inspired by Selena's and HonorH's BtVS "Five Things" stories and wrote one of my own for the B5 universe.
Whoever is responsible for the "Five Things" challenge has my thanks.
Helpless is set sometime after Legions of Fire: Armies of Light and Dark.
Dispensable takes place after And the Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place and is the flip side of what I envision took place between this episode and The Hour of the Wolf.
In Calling, Sic Transit Vir never took place. I used John Hightower's Minbari Dictionary for the Minbari phrase. (Apologies if it is not constructed correctly.)
Beaten/Broken is set in early 2260, but the point of divergence is earlier than that. You'll see what I mean when you read it.
Needless Sacrifice is an alternate ending for Into the Fire.
Postscript: What Truly Came to Pass is canonical and is set after Sleeping in Light.
Thanks especially to Selena for her support.
Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and its characters are the property of J. Michael Straczynski and Warner Brothers Television. No copyright infringement is intended. The five alternate universe ideas and all the original characters are mine- please ask permission before using them. This story will also be archived at Enemies & Allies, the Narn/Centauri archive.
*****
Missing Light: Five Things that Never Happened to Vir Cotto
I.
Helpless
He had to see him.
As soon as he had heard, he had gone down to the dungeon to see him. The vile Shiv'kala had not interfered, perhaps because the Drakh had known, Londo thought darkly, that there was nothing the emperor could do.
The cell was cold and dark and stank of waste and perspiration. Londo almost retched at the smell of it. He reached into his coat with a gnarled, shaking hand and produced a handkerchief, placing it over his mouth and nose. He crouched down and with his other hand gingerly touched the form slumped before him.
Chains clanked against the wall as the prisoner shifted position, looking up at Londo with bleary brown eyes. Londo brought the cloth away from his face and murmured, "Great Maker... Vir..."
Until that moment, a part of Londo had fervently hoped that Durla had misled him. That hope vanished like a touched snowflake at the sight of Vir's battered face. One side of Vir's jaw was purple and swollen and blood still seeped from his nose and mouth. "Londo..." Vir began, but before he could continue, he was overcome by a liquid cough that seemed to come from the very pit of his chest. Londo looked down and saw flecks of crimson standing out against the white of his vestments.
"Londo..." Vir said again, but this time he was stopped by the pressure of Londo's hands around his face.
"Do not try to speak." Londo's whisper was ragged, harsh in the silence. "Gods, Vir. Why did you not stay away as I asked you to?"
But Londo knew the answer to that question the moment he asked it. The reason burned brightly in years of memories. Memories of parties and jokes and arias sung. Memories of Vir by his bedside, watching and waiting. Memories of Vir's arms around him, holding him awkwardly but warmly. Memories of Vir's words years ago:
"I will never stop hoping that you retreat from the road that you're walking. I will never stop searching for a means to turn you away from it. And I will never stop being your friend... even if, eventually, I find that I have become your enemy."
Where did it come from? Where was this place inside of Vir where he found such faith in him? Londo had depended upon this faith and, by the gods, he had taken advantage of it on more than one occasion. And now Vir was going to die for him, for his cause. Londo felt heartsick, he felt ashamed, and most of all, he felt responsible.
"Not... your... fault..."
"What?"
Londo dropped his hands and stared at Vir's face, seeing the quiet strength that shined there even then. Had he heard correctly? Yes, Vir was saying it again: "Not... your... fault..."
Great Maker. Vir knew what Londo had been thinking.
Vir drew in a wheezing breath. His chains rattled again as he reached out and grasped Londo's shoulders. "My choice..." he choked.
Londo heard the cell door open behind him, heard the guards enter. "I can't save you."
"I know."
The full meaning of those two words struck the core of Londo's being. He knew Vir had learned of the Drakh. And now it was clear that he knew of the Keeper as well. In Vir's eyes was forgiveness and it hurt with a physical pain.
Londo watched as the guards unchained Vir and dragged him to his feet. Watched, his last hope drifting away and disappearing like a wisp of smoke in the wind. All he could hear in that moment was the pounding of his hearts. All he could feel was the ache in his chest and the burning in his eyes.
And then, suddenly, Londo was on his feet. Propelled by insanity and grief, he lunged for one of the guards, knocking him to the ground with the weight of his body. The guard's eyes drifted closed on impact.
Londo, chest heaving, fought against the hold of the other guard, but his struggle was quickly and cruelly cut short by a blinding flash of pain. Falling to his knees, Londo screamed in agony, his cry echoing down the corridor.
II.
Dispensable
"Supper is ready, Mr. Cotto."
Vir was lying in bed with his back to the entryway and thus did not see the face of the woman who spoke. However, by her voice he knew her to be the innkeeper's wife, a plain but not unpleasant Centauri whose name he could not remember. Truth be told, since his arrival on the Centauri colony world of Davo a few days before, he had sequestered himself in his room, hardly the most gregarious of guests. There were simply too many things he had to sort out in his mind.
"Thank you, but I'm not hungry," Vir said.
"All right," his hostess said not unsympathetically in an accent that was a painful reminder of what- who- Vir had left behind. "I will set some aside if you change your mind."
The door clicked closed and the room was once again silent save for the driving rain that pounded against the roof.
The accommodations were modest by Centauri standards, but clean and well kept. Vir pushed himself up and padded barefoot across the worn purple carpet to the large double window, pulling open the gossamer drapes. Water poured down the panes, blurring and distorting the black trees that clawed the roiling gray sky outside. Vir rested his forehead on the glass.
He hadn't wanted to leave.
He had been angry. Oh yes, he had been angry. After three nights of frighteningly vivid dreams that jolted him awake and left him trembling in the dark- those dreams compliments of Refa's telepath- Vir had lost his temper. Feeling betrayed and used, he had vented his fury on Londo and had stormed off to his quarters to stew over the matter.
A few hours later, Vir had walked into Londo's quarters, bags and resignation in hand:
"And where will you go, hmm?" Londo said, answering anger with anger. "Who will speak for you? Your family? As you say, your family has cast you aside. If you leave, you will end up in Ghehana begging for your meals. Without my influence, you are nobody- a fool with no power and no home."
"That's not fair," Vir responded tightly.
"The truth is rarely fair."
"Maybe I won't go to Centauri Prime. Maybe I'll go... somewhere else!"
"Madness!"
"Maybe it is," Vir said, and it broke his hearts to say it, "but you've taken too much, Londo. I wish to the gods that I could stay, but I don't know if I have anything left to give."
Londo softened. "Vir..."
"I-I'm sorry, Londo." Vir turned away, no longer able to look Londo in the eye. "I'm sorry."
Vir closed his eyes against the memory, sadness welling up and prickling his eyelids. All he had wanted was for Londo to come after him, to drag him away from customs, to move heaven and earth to keep him.
Londo had done it once before. When Centauri Prime tried to replace Vir a little over a year before, Londo had called home and campaigned on his behalf. Though his head had ached from the consequences of drink, Vir had also felt valued then.
All Vir had wanted to hear was three little words: "I need you." He had wanted to be needed, not as a game piece to be manipulated at will, but as a trusted ally. He had wanted Londo to put aside his pride and tell him that, yes, Vir was indispensable.
Vir had dared to believe that Londo's actions were only a reflection of his grief over Adira, that his angry words were only a reflection of his shame.
But Londo had never come and, Great Maker, that had hurt more than anything.
Vir had cared for Londo deeply. He still cared. He didn't know when it started and he definitely couldn't explain it, but every time he looked at Londo, he felt a confused rush of sadness and anger and hope. Feelings like that couldn't be turned off like one turned off a light.
Once a few years before, Vir, troubled over the plight of a younger cousin who was lying unconscious in the Med Lab, had confronted Londo in the garden on matters of Centauri tradition. Vir had been ready for a full-scale argument, but Londo caught him flat-footed. He didn't scold Vir for his presumption or repeat platitudes on the sanctity of the noble houses. Instead, he said that his shoes were too tight and he had forgotten how to dance and there was such sorrow in those words that Vir was left mystified.
Perhaps it started then, Vir thought as he opened his eyes.
Vir saw a light in Londo. It was weak and small and struggling to burn, but it was still there and Vir couldn't just ignore it. As he stared out into the stormy evening, he wished with all his hearts that he hadn't seen it. Maybe then he wouldn't feel this pain that filled his insides to the bursting point, that closed his throat and threatened to swallow him whole.
He couldn't go back. That much he knew. As much as it hurt to close that door, Vir couldn't take the risk of being wounded even further.
Releasing a heavy, shaky sigh, Vir turned away from the window, palmed off the light, and lay back against his pillows. Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered:
What am I going to do now?
III.
Calling
Vir knelt on the ground in the imperial garden and, strangely, even though he knew he wasn't really here, he could feel the cold moisture of the stone seeping through his trouser legs. Above him was Cartagia's grotesque "example": upon a pike rested a head that Vir only barely recognized.
A month had passed since Londo had died in his attempt to free the Centauri from the reign of the mad Emperor Cartagia. And yet, every night, Vir's subconscious brought him here to this place to face his own guilt.
Londo had asked Vir for his help, but Vir's own duties had prevented him from giving it. When word finally reached Minbar that a group of conspirators had tried to assassinate Emperor Cartagia, that Londo was among those conspirators, and that Londo and all of his relatives and allies were to be captured and executed by the emperor himself, Vir sensed he was in danger and had sought asylum with the Minbari. Now cut off from his people, Vir saw the Centauri homeworld only in his dreams.
The smell of decay surrounded Vir as he stared into the dead eyes that once belonged to his mentor and friend. The severed head's gray lips parted slightly and Vir shivered in disgust and averted his eyes as several maggots crawled from the opening and inched their way across the rotting flesh.
Incredibly, in this dream a voice broke the silence. "Why are you here?" it asked and the sound of it was so familiar that Vir felt his breath hitch in his chest.
Vir didn't dare raise his gaze. The feelings that the voice stirred within him were too keen, guilt and hope and sorrow washing over him like a wave. A shadow fell over Vir and a hand touched his chin and forced it up. "Londo," Vir whispered in astonishment at the sight that met his eyes.
"Why are you here?" Londo asked again. He was crouched before Vir looking very much like he did in life. Yet in some intangible sense he was different- his eyes shone with the knowledge of something far older and wiser.
"I-I don't know," Vir said and it was the truth. "I don't want to be here."
With dizzying suddenness, the scene changed and Vir was standing before the window in his quarters on Minbar. Sunlight filtered through the crystal spires of the city and fractured into rainbows that played across the walls.
"Why are you here?"
"I don't know," Vir said. "You... you sent me here. I-I didn't think I'd like it. I didn't think... I didn't think I was good enough. And I-I didn't want to leave you."
"Why are you here?"
"I don't know!" Vir cried and his voice sounded pathetically shrill in his ears. "Why do you keep asking me that? I don't know why I'm here and I-I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. Am I just supposed to live out the rest of my life here knowing that I... that I have failed you?"
"You believe you have failed your friend?" said the man who looked like Londo and yet wasn't him somehow. The apparition touched Vir's shoulder and Vir felt moisture fill his eyes.
"Yes," Vir whispered. Ashamed by his own weakness, he turned away from the window, sat down on the floor, and rested the back of his head against the wall.
Then the floor tilted and Vir tumbled, his body slamming against a bulkhead. Disoriented and a little nauseous, he grabbed onto a nearby ledge and scrambled to his feet. He was standing on the bridge of a warship and in the middle of that bridge stood the Londo apparition. The ghost regarded Vir with searching eyes. "How can you be a failure when you are not yet finished?" he said.
"I-I-I don't understand," Vir said, holding on for dear life as the deck started to vibrate violently beneath his feet.
"You will..."
A roar crescendoed around Vir, rapidly reaching a deafening volume. And then the walls and floor began to crumble and Vir lost his grip and fell.
*****
Vir awoke with a start, knocking over the candle in his panic. Melted wax dripped onto Vir's hand and he yelped in pain. The door to Vir's quarters opened and a Minbari acolyte named Meshonn rushed in. Seeing the small fire that had leapt to life on Vir's mat, Meshonn quickly smothered it with his robe.
"I-I-I'm sorry," Vir stammered in accented Minbari, a familiar warmth creeping up his cheeks. "I guess I fell asleep." Attempting to put a pleasant face on it, he said, "If I stay here long enough, I'm sure I'll burn down this entire building." Vir laughed feebly, but when Meshonn didn't immediately respond to the joke, Vir's face fell.
How mortifying- Vir must've pronounced the words wrong. For all he knew, he was babbling about fish. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Maybe I'm never going to master this. I mean, I-I've been trying to for the past month but... I-I just can't concentrate. I don't understand anymore now than I did when I first came here." He sighed. "Maybe a Centauri is incapable of finding wisdom."
Meshonn smiled at this. "Wisdom belongs to no race, Vir Cotto. It simply is."
"Maybe you're right," Vir conceded with another sigh. "I just wish it were easier to find."
"You're still troubled by your dreams?"
Vir bowed his head in affirmation. "This time, Londo spoke to me... well, actually, it wasn't really Londo," Vir amended, his hands fluttering before him. "He looked like Londo, but he wasn't... anyway, whoever it was told me that I wasn't finished... I-I don't know what he was talking about... and I was standing on this..." Vir trailed off when he saw Meshonn's puzzled look. "I'm not making any sense, am I?" he said ruefully.
"A dream is always confusing to a person who has not experienced it." Off Vir's nonverbal expression of frustration, Meshonn said, "Patience, Vir Cotto. Understanding will come in time."
Meshonn's words echoed in Vir's mind long after his host left to tend to other matters. Lying on his back on the floor, Vir allowed his thoughts to roil uninterrupted through his mind.
"Understanding will come in time..."
Images from another nightmare flashed before his eyes. Now Vir was standing in Londo's quarters on Babylon 5, watching as Londo spoke with the Narn Na'Far. Gone was all the warmth and soul that Vir had come to know- it had been replaced by a hardened, icy arrogance. This part was memory, but in the dream, the scene shuddered and twisted and suddenly Londo was on Na'Far, drawing a knife across the Narn's throat.
On Vir's first night on Minbar, he had woken up screaming from this nightmare, the reek of blood still lingering in his nose. The smell made him gag, but he gained control of himself before his evening meal made a return appearance. The noise aroused his Minbari hosts, and it had taken a great deal of time for the flushed, trembling Vir to convince the acolytes that he was just fine. It had been most embarrassing... and the humiliation had only grown more intense when he reached up to rub the fog from his eyes and discovered that his face was wet with tears.
"A dream is always confusing to a person who has not experienced it." And frequently, a dream confused- even frightened- the one who had.
As the months went by, Vir adjusted to his new position. He even developed a newfound sense of empowerment in the role when he discovered he could channel his compassion for the Narn into worthwhile activities for the first time. Further, Vir came to appreciate the sense of order and purpose that seemed to permeate the daily lives of his hosts. Even now, with internal divisions between the castes growing ever more evident, Vir saw a light among the Minbari that was a hundred and eighty degrees opposed to the eternal grasping that seemed to define his own people.
Yet the nightmares still plagued Vir despite his newfound confidence. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had broken an unspoken promise in leaving Londo behind. And when he learned of Londo's death, that feeling burned with even greater strength.
"Understanding will come in time..."
In the early days of his exile, sadness and shame overwhelmed Vir so completely that restful sleep repeatedly eluded him. The Minbari began to refer to him as zhalen ra duma, wanderer of the night, and it was decided that Vir would learn how to meditate to cope with his grief.
How very strange he must've looked sitting in silence and staring into the candlelight! Vir had never communed with the gods in this manner. It was not the Centauri way.
But then, the Centauri way had never been his way. Not really. He had toasted with Londo at the Celebration of Life. He had devoured Centauri comedy and gloried in Centauri opera. But many corners of Centauri life were closed to Vir. This was never made more clear than when Londo had to stop and explain some aspect of Centauri culture that Vir's guardians and tutors had never thought to teach him.
"Wisdom belongs to no race..."
The Minbari spoke to a part of Vir's soul he had never known existed. They said that the candle represented life. They said that all life was born from the same stardust and it was only the ego that forgot, that believed itself superior to the rest. They said that each flame, each life, was unique, but equal to all the others in its creation. They said all of these things and Vir knew in his hearts that they were true. Yet he still felt like an imposter, a foreigner chanting words that were not his to speak.
How was he, Vir Cotto, man of two worlds yet belonging to none, supposed to pray?
"How can you be a failure when you are not yet finished?"
The answer was in his dreams. Vir could feel it. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite touch it.
"Not yet finished..." the voice whispered in his ears.
And then, with stunning suddenness, he understood.
*****
"Ow!"
"Do not move," said Vito Aleron. "I'm almost finished."
Vir bit his lip and turned his red face away as Vito continued to bind the wound on Vir's arm. When he finished, Vito asked, "Can you move your hand?"
Vir looked down and opened and closed his hand experimentally. "Yes, I think so."
"Good. Then there is no nerve damage."
Vir slid off the table, closing his fingers around the hilt of his kutari and raising it until the tip of the blade was pointed at Vito's chest. "Okay," Vir said, "now show me how you did that."
Vito flashed his young guest an incredulous look. "Perhaps we should stop for today. It is almost time for the evening meal, and your concentration is beginning to falter."
Indeed, Vir was looking considerably the worse for wear. His face was flushed and filthy and his undershirt was soaked with sweat, his left sleeve hanging in tatters by his side. But at Vito's suggestion that they cease their exercises, Vir's jaw stiffened. "No," he said. "I have to know how you did that. Show me."
Vito sighed and rubbed his bald head with his hand.
When Vito Aleron left his post as head of the Centauri diplomatic mission on Minbar and settled on an isolated tract of land on the Minbari colony world of Sh'Lekk'Tha, he believed he would never see another of his kind again. It was his expectation that upon renouncing his Centauri citizenship, he would be declared persona non grata, as the Humans say, among the Centauri- a result the rebellious Vito was quite willing to abide.
It was thus a great surprise when, a few months before, Vir Cotto appeared on his doorstep and requested that he be taught to fight in the Centauri way.
Vito had been tempted to refuse. His military experience was something he had put far out of mind when he adopted the Minbari way of life and he did not wish to be reminded of his youthful exploits. But Vir spoke of the tyranny that had descended upon the world of Vito's birth with such quiet relentlessness and passion that Vito found it difficult to turn him away.
Once they had begun, it became instantly apparent that the task of teaching Vir how to fight would be very difficult indeed. Vir was by nature a gentle young man and he often held back in their duels, afraid that he would injure his teacher. But Vir was also hardworking and, when it counted, surprisingly brave.
Vito once asked Vir why it mattered to him so much, the fate of the Centauri Republic. "Because it mattered to my friend," Vir said and in his eyes was a sadness so profound that Vito was left unable to respond.
It was then that Vito realized that he was deeply fond of Vir.
It was that fondness he was feeling now as he watched Vir rub the sweat off of his face with his remaining sleeve and tighten his grip on his kutari, his expression hardening with determination.
"All right," Vito said. "One more time."
*****
Delenn was not certain of the identity of the cloaked figure who had just passed through Customs until the man pulled back the hood which obscured his features in shadow. When she caught a glimpse of the familiar face, she smiled. "Vir."
It had been almost two years since Delenn had last spoken to the former diplomatic attaché, and it was clear that those years had affected Vir profoundly. While Vir's face still carried the suggestion of youth, there was a gravity in his eyes that spoke of terrible loss. Delenn took Vir into her arms and Vir stiffened slightly in surprise before relaxing in the embrace.
Pulling away, Delenn said, "It's good to see you, Vir. I worried about you when the capital was attacked last year."
"I had already left for Sh'Lekk'Tha when the fighting started." Then Vir turned to the man who stood beside Delenn and held out his hand in the Human manner. "Captain Sheridan."
"Hello, Vir," said John. "I understand you have something to discuss with Delenn and me."
"Actually, there is someone else I would like to see as well..."
Later, Delenn and John sat quietly in John's office while Vir came near to wearing a hole in the floor with his nervous pacing. At last, the fourth attendee arrived, stopping the anxious Vir in his tracks.
Citizen G'Kar of Narn stood for a time in the doorway, examining the smaller Vir with a searching gaze. Vir swallowed audibly as he took in the angry scar that marred G'Kar's face. Delenn knew that G'Kar had acquired that scar in his fight to evade capture after the attempt on Emperor Cartagia's life had failed.
Vir had folded his hands before his mid-section and had opened his mouth to speak when G'Kar raised his fists to his chest and bowed his head.
"You have helped thousands of my people escape to freedom, Cotto, and for that, you have my respect."
"Thank you," Vir said softly. It took him a moment to come back to himself and restore the focus that had brought him to Babylon 5. "I asked to see you all today because... well, I need your help. I-I'm not really sure how to ask this, so..." Vir was bracing himself. Delenn could see Vir's facial muscles tense slightly before the rest of his words spilled out in a rush. "So I'm just going to ask it. I need your help to free my people."
John's expression was troubled. "That's a very serious request, Vir," he said. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure we can help. Our resources were strained to the limit fighting President Clark's forces. And even if we put those concerns aside, I'm not sure I can gather the support either back home or here to intervene on a matter internal to the Centauri."
"I know that. I-I do. But I also know that you've been having trouble curbing my government's military aggression. That problem could be solved if you help me build a force that can stand in opposition to Cartagia. You'd stop the attacks on the Non-Aligned Worlds, you'd free my people... and you'd free the Narn too," Vir added with a glance to G'Kar. "I'm not asking you to make it official. I've spent the past year learning everything from hand-to-hand combat to piloting a ship. I think... I think I can lead the force. But I'm going to need weapons and other supplies to make it happen."
"There are ways what you ask can be accomplished," said G'Kar after trading a look with John. "I have a great deal of experience acquiring necessary resources through unofficial channels and I am willing to assist you in the name of freedom for my people. But I must ask you, Cotto... are you sure you are ready to lead a resistance?"
A long moment of silence passed before Vir spoke. "No, I-I'm not sure," he admitted with complete honesty. "But I don't think I'm ever going to be completely sure and the Centauri can't wait for something that probably will never come. Londo tried to kill Cartagia to save us. That's the only thing I'm sure about and... well, that's enough for me. I-I have to... I have to finish what he started."
Delenn had seen that light in Vir's eyes once before. After a disastrous meeting between Londo and the Drazi Ambassador- a meeting Delenn had been asked to mediate- Vir had stood before her and expressed his utter conviction that Londo was not lost, that Londo could be saved. As Lennier once observed after an evening spent consoling a troubled Vir, such hope was a heavy burden for one man to carry on his shoulders.
As John assured Vir that they would consider his request, Delenn found herself wondering whether Vir Cotto might have something to teach about the importance of faith.
*****
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Vir pulled himself across the deck of the ruined ship with his arms, ducking when a shower of sparks rained down on his head. His left leg stopped at the knee. The rest was blown off in an explosion, but he could still feel the toe of his boot dragging behind him.
The shuddering had stopped. Apparently, the Centauri military neither noticed nor cared that there was still one rebel alive on this vessel and had moved on to other targets.
A blinding flash of pain shot through Vir's abdomen and he cried out. The sound was weak and pitiful in his ears. He rested his cheek against the deck, gasping for air, his vision beginning to dim. And it was strange, but he could hear voices calling to him from a great distance.
Who are you?
What do you want?
Why are you here?
Where are you going?
What do you serve?
"I serve my friend," Vir whispered as he lost his battle with the darkness, tears falling and evaporating on his face.
Continued...