Chapter 5: Let Us Sleep the Long Sleep
The last scene that Sheridan had been exposed to left no doubt in his mind anymore. He was not responsible for his actions when he was taken over by the Gods of Death. For so long he had trusted the old adage of leadership that the person on top was responsible. But if he could not even control his own actions, then what crime did he truly commit?
"The answer is none," he said aloud.
They had returned to the Central Park of New York, at least the one from his memories. He didn't really stand there. But Galen rather preferred this place to all the others stored in Sheridan's rather sad memory. The bench he sat on was creaky, but it really didn't matter.
"To what question is the answer none?" Galen asked, standing at the edge of a duck pond. For some reason though, the ducks were a lot bigger in Sheridan's memories than in real life.
"There is no crime I committed," Sheridan said with conviction, "I was possessed by darkness. The darkness used me as a vessel for its dirty work. I cannot be held responsible for its crimes."
Galen looked back at Sheridan, and his dark and dirty clothes were replaced by a pinstripe suit. Galen thought Sheridan looked much better in that clothing than all the other outfits the man had seen fit to call clothes, no matter how ugly they truly were.
"You have any idea how much time has passed since your death?" Galen asked him.
Sheridan shrugged. He had no idea, for death really was a timeless bubble.
"One hundred and seventy years," Galen informed him, "They see you not as a hero, John. History records you a greater criminal then Hitler, Napoleon or Genghis Khan. You alliance with the Shadows, your war against Clark and your tyrannical rule overshadow all that any other true criminal was. What say you to that?"
"The only thing I care about it Delenn," Sheridan informed him. "And I blew that chance with her."
Galen gave a small smirk. "And quiet spectacularly if I may say so," Galen said.
Sheridan stood and turned away from him, walking to the edge of the grass and looking towards the skyscrape of New York City. Galen watched him, feeling the changes wrought in the man. Gone was the mountains of guilt. Now stood Sheridan who once was. A man who understood the price of crimes and understood his own role. Someone who had found peace.
"Who are you?" Galen asked him.
"I am not who I once was," Sheridan answered.
"What do you want?" Galen asked him, walking towards him.
"I want no power or fame," Sheridan shook his head, "Only the chance to make up for the personal injuries I caused."
"And whom do you serve and whom do you trust?"
Sheridan stared at the sky, thinking of all the things he had seen and done. All the people he had interacted with. Lyta Alexander Byron Allen, the red-head telepath. The fiery Russian woman Susan Ivanova. Lorien, oldest and wisest. Michael Garibaldi, another fallen angel like himself. And then Delenn, sweetest and most formidable person he had ever met. The Chosen One of his dreams.
"Whom do you serve?" Galen repeated with greater emphasis, "And Whom do you trust?"
"The dead serve no one," Sheridan repeated, "And I trust the Chosen One."
Galen took the answers and mulled them over in his head. A man who was not what he once was. A man who wanted no power or fame only to rectify the wrong. A dead man who trusted a Chosen One.
"You are ready then," he said, "Turn and behold the path to your personal salvation."
Sheridan turned and looked to where Galen held up his finger and pointed and his heart did a double beat. Standing there was a woman robed in white, staring at him from the opposite side of the duck pond. The woman he had loved above all others, even when he was married to his first wife, Anna. The woman he had as a child seen in a dream, a strange girl with a crown of bone around her beautiful hair.
Slowly he walked forward, and she stood there, expectantly waiting him. Each step felt like he was walking through deep mud, pulling at his feet, slowing him down. Yet with each footstep there was more strength and he was beginning to run, trying to catch the vision of perfection before she could disappear. He was soon standing above her, and suddenly he found himself unable to speak.
He opened his mouth and closed it several times, and found himself unable to say anything. Tears began to well in his eyes and began to course down his cheeks, streaking down into his beard where they wet them in his sorrow.
"Delenn…" he began, but she held up a delicate finger and placed it on his lips.
"I have missed you, my Chosen One," she said, and with that, they embraced and kissed each other.
Galen watched this reunion with a sad smile. He turned from the sight, having to return to the land of the living. True Technomages were never done in their work. There was another John J. Sheridan, another Delenn out there, in another world, living different lives. It was his responsibility to help them along, to find each other.
He walked down a path where another being was waiting. He took the guise of a fair human, flawless in appearance. Galen nodded to him.
"It is done," he said, "Shall we go?"
"Yes," said the other. They turned and walked away, leaving the realm of Sheridan's memories and entering a void of infinite colors and lights. They travelled together, their footsteps here echoing so much louder.
"Is it possible to save all the Sheridan's and Delenn's out there?" Galen asked him. "We have already saved the Hero that raised the Interstellar Alliance and his beloved. And now we just reunited the redeemed Great Scourge of the Third Age and his Chosen One. How many do you think we can save?"
"As many as possible," the other man said, rubbing his earlobe, "The universes deserve John Sheridan and Delenn of Mir. They are nexus anywhere they are and they can be a great force of good. Look at the universe we just left. No matter that Sheridan was a tyrant and a killer of millions. The empire he forged remains even after his death and flourishes and they speak with a reverence of him that few will ever achieve. We owe it to all universes their chances of the good and great Sheridan and Delenn."
"Sheridan will lead the people and Delenn will save them," Galen nodded, holding his staff loosely at his side. "So which one will we save next? One where Sheridan was the Minbari and Delenn was the human? Or one where they are really twins?"
"That is a secret that we shall enjoy discovering," the other said.
"I have always wondered," the Technomage said, "Why is it that in the universes you only speak cryptically and only choose to be that one race? There are many others."
"Ah!" the other man said, "A man who speaks cryptically men ponder their words trying to figure out the answer. As for the race, who doesn't respect Vorlons?"
Galen smiled and the two laughed at the joke. And with that little joke, Kosh and Galen ventured forward, ready to help save another universe by saving the most important people in it.