There were a number of things she could do with that information, but for the moment, she was quite happy to proceed with her original plan. Phase 1 was complete – getting rid of Marcus so that she could work in peace. Now it was time for Phase 2 – keeping Sheridan from getting involved.

“Um, hi,” Anna had said sheepishly as Susan arrived. She still looked a mess, although her quarters – hers and John’s quarters – were slightly neater than they had been the last time. The permanent aroma of Narn liquor had been replaced by the scent of orange blossom – a smell that Susan gathered had special significance for John and Anna.

“I’ve been… trying to keep the place tidy,” Anna muttered. “I don’t have much to do these days. I’ve been looking back and wondering where all the time went, and then I realised it all went down the bottom of a bottle. I…”

“Anna, I’ve got some news for you. John’s here, on the surface. He’s in some sort of diplomatic meeting at the moment, but he won’t be in there long.”

Anna looked up, and there was a brief ray of hope in her eyes. “You think… he’d see me?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“I don’t… no. He didn’t come to try and find me after I went to see him before. He’s probably too busy to see me.”

“Anna! Look, you have to talk to him. The Minbari will be here soon, and you may not get another chance. I know what it’s like to lose someone when you had words you should have said to them. Don’t let that happen.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel. It won’t be easy, I know, but you have to try.”

“I… you’re right. There’s nothing more that can happen to me that’s worse than what’s happened these last few years.” Anna met Susan’s eyes. “I still love him, Susan. I always did.”

Susan hugged her friend closely. “I know, and he does too. Just tell him.”

“Where is he?”

“The Conference Hall.”

Anna pulled back and smiled. “Thank you, Susan. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

Susan only smiled in reply, but her mind thought of the Shadows lurking beside her, and she felt a sudden stab of grief and shame. A betrayal of the one true friend she had made here.

But she knew that she would do it again if she had to. Some things were more important than friendship.

Sheridan hated diplomats, by and large. He hated passing meaningless pleasantries with people he’d never seen before, who were only interested in his reputation. His father had been a prominent diplomat and he had grown up hearing all about the fine art of diplomacy, about travelling to strange places and taking part in unusual customs. He’d been fascinated, then, and had said, with all the conviction and determination that eight-year-old boys have, that he would become a diplomat when he grew up.

But that was then, before the Minbari, before the Starkiller. He’d been present at any number of diplomatic meetings since the Battle of the Line, largely so that the Resistance Government could show him off to the visiting dignitaries. He felt half like an embarrassed child showing off his skills with a piano or his artwork to his parents’ friends, and half like an open threat. We’ve got the Starkiller on our side.

There were only so many times you could talk about the destruction of the Black Star – an act more noted for its playing on Minbari overconfidence rather than its tactical skill or innovation – or about the Battle of Mars, which had been fought on pure fury, and which he still remembered with shame. After a while, he’d grown tired of the whole affair, of being trotted out whenever the Resistance Government was trying to impress a new trade delegation or to win an alliance. He knew that they wouldn’t get any such alliance. The Starkiller might be strong, but the Minbari were stronger.

Still, this Lord Refa had intrigued him. He had had some contact with Centauri nobles, certainly enough to know that the archetypal Centauri noble – power-crazed, machiavellian, decadent and permanently scheming – was, like most archetypes, based on the truth. Refa’s carefully chosen words and barbed comments confirmed that he was after something, but it seemed to be more than just mere political power. He was after something specific from Proxima, and something even more specific from Sheridan, and Sheridan couldn’t be exactly sure what.

Oh, he had his suspicions. Lord Refa had never once mentioned Satai Delenn – about whom the Resistance Government would certainly have told him – which implied that she was connected in some way to his scheme. Unless of course Refa had anticipated this reaction from him and was really after something else he had been talking about in order to…

Sheridan just gave up. Thinking like a Centauri made his head ache.

Of equal if not more interest was Refa’s companion, Vir. Outwardly bumbling and apologetic, he was quiet just long enough to listen to everything that Refa was saying. Sheridan also recognised the small circle-of-light sleeve clasp Vir was wearing. He’d seen Ta’Lon and Neroon wearing similar devices. Now it was true that Minbari fashions were becoming popular among the Centauri recently, but it was also true that G’Kar had sources and allies everywhere – including amongst the Centauri. Vir had evidently noticed Sheridan’s gaze and had made somewhat stilted conversation implying something along the lines of ’we have to talk later’.

But later was later, and for now, all he wanted to do was get back to his ship and to keeping an eye on Delenn’s cocoon – sorry, chrysalis. She should have several more days yet, but he didn’t want to take any risks.

Fate was standing in his way.

As he saw Anna waiting outside the Conference Hall, he hesitated, and silently groaned. The last thing he wanted was another round of drunken insults from her. Acting almost on instinct he backed away, because it was too painful to be with her, as a living reminder of everything he’d once had and lost.

But this time was different. He could see the focussed clarity in her eyes. He could not smell any alcohol. He could even see the hint of sadness in her expression. Caught, almost captivated, he slowed down and wandered to her side.

“Anna,” he said. “You’re um… looking well?” He was half afraid that this was all some kind of illusion that would abandon him soon, or some trick. But no… she wasn’t drunk. His senses were telling him that this was the woman he had fallen in love with and married. This was no simulacrum, hologram or doppelgänger. This was her.

This was the real Anna, the one who had been buried for so long beneath alcohol and fear and regret and grief.

“Thank you,” she muttered. And she was looking well. She must have made a special effort to look nice, something she hadn’t done in years, and had done rarely even before Elizabeth’s death, knowing that her mere presence was enough to make him smile. Knowing that because he insisted on telling her.

“Um… is something wrong?” he asked. They hadn’t spoken properly in months. Their last conversation that hadn’t either started out as or ended up as an argument had been on the morning of Elizabeth’s memorial service.

“No…” She smiled ruefully. “Yes. There is. It’s us. It’s me… it’s… it’s the world. Can we… talk? Just for a while.”

He blinked slowly. “I… I’m a little…” What could he tell her? And for that matter why should he? Delenn had days yet before she was due to emerge from the chrysalis, David was more than capable of running the ship for a few more hours, and they’d have twelve hours notice in case the Minbari arrived. Despite what he had told Clark, that was enough time for the Babylon and her crew. It would have to be.

He activated his link through to the Babylon. “David, it’s me. I’m going to be here a little longer than I expected. Only link me if its a real emergency, and if you could check in on our guest every now and then.”