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Aug. 1st, 2003 06:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
selenakFirstly, one of my dearest friends has got herself a livejournal. Anyone interested in the Jossverse, in Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and any range of topics from C.S. Lewis to Pirates of the Caribbean (which yours truly won't be able to see until September) should pay a visit to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
honorh now. Between me introducing her to Sandman and her introducing me to the Matrix, we have intermingling realities covered.
Secondly,melymbrosia wrote down some great thoughts about Chosen, and why it rocks as a finale for the show, here
Thirdly, if you, like me, love Darla and have a soft spot for the Angel/Darla relationship, try
this story.
Fourthly, for a well-argued take on George Bush's newest pronouncements, read Cadesama here.
And lastly, despite my best intentions to do more Real Life stuff today, Londo and G'kar insisted I couldn't leave them hanging like that. So yes, the story is finished.
It took them a while to negotiate the rules of the game, since Londo wanted to modify them, and G’kar refused to participate in any game where Londo could set the parameters.
“I might take that as a slur regarding my gambling ethics,” Londo said.
“What ethics?” G’kar asked.
In fact, at first G’kar accused him of having made the entire game up, claiming that neither Sheridan nor Garibaldi had ever mentioned any such game as Truth or Dare. Since Sheridan had started his tenure on Babylon 5 bothering them all with a variety of Earth games – they shuddered in rare unity at the memory of baseball -, and Garibaldi had to know every game there was, Earth or otherwise, G’kar concluded triumphantly, it could not exist.
“Well, call him and ask,” Londo said, exasparated. “And if you want my opinion why neither of them ever mentioned it to you, it’s because they both had secrets they didn’t want to share, and they definitely didn’t want to be dared into suicidal rescue missions for Narn.”
The existence of Truth or Dare proven, they proceeded to argue about the modifications.
“It would be just like you to take Dare the entire time,” Londo remarked. “And since your epiphany in my suite which you kindly brought up earlier today, I don’t have any secrets you don’t know about anyway, so I could take Truth all the way without having anything to lose. Which would make for a dull game.”
G’kar muttered something about the novelty value of Londo telling nothing but the truth for an entire evening making up for any monotony, but in the end they agreed that one shouldn’t be allowed to take the same option for more than three times in a row, and that dares were not allowed to include anything that would endanger Centauri Prime or Narn.
Armed with some Earth whiskey, they started at last. G’kar, perhaps to make a point about not being as predictable as Londo claimed, picked Truth.
“Hm. Let’s see. It occurs to me that you never asked me who he was, so you must have met him. Tell me, G’kar, what did you reply to Mr. Morden?”
G’kar stapled his fingers. “How do you know I gave him any answer at all? Delenn didn’t.”
“No,” Londo said, feeling the warmth of the evening drain away, “Delenn didn’t. And Kosh didn’t. But I did, and if you tell me you didn’t, I won’t believe you.”
“I told him,” G’kar said slowly, “I told him I wanted to see every Centauri dead. I told him I wanted to carve flutes out of their bones.”
And why didn’t he take you up on it? Londo wondered. Why did he pick me instead? You weren’t then what you are now. You would have gone through with it, too, if he had given you the chance. The eternally selfish part in himself wished Morden had picked G’kar, no matter the consequences, because then it would be G’kar who would have the blood on his hands, G’kar who would still hear Morden whispering to him at night about retribution yet due and services rendered, with the human’s charming smile looking grotesque on a skull.
But if Morden had picked G’kar, the Centauri would be dead, and Centauri Prime would have been a pyre not only for Cartagia, but for an entire people. No. Anything but that. Londo had made his choices, and no matter the regrets, no matter what the future had in store for him, he would accept it all if it meant the Centauri were safe.
G’kar met his gaze, unflinching, and the silence between them bled with might-have beens. Londo sighed.
“Dare”, he said.
“Invite your wife Timov to visit you here,” G’kar replied, and Londo’s eyebrows shot upwards.
“I was joking earlier, G’kar,” he said, and drank some whiskey to cover his surprise.
“I’m not,” G’kar shot back and took the bottle from him.
“Ah. Now that dare is…surprising, but within the rules. Very well then. I shall invite Timov. May I ask…?”
“No,” G’kar interrupted firmly, “since I’m taking Dare next.”
The suspicion grew in Londo that he had started to lose the upper hand which he had so pleasantly maintained since they arrived in this establishment. Which was annoying, but then again, he had wanted the game to be a challenge. Covering his irritation, he let his gaze wander through the Wa’tia’ru. There weren’t any other Narn in sight, and only two or three other Centauri, who kept a well-advised discreet distance and pretended not to notice him and G’kar. Naturally not a single Minbari raised his bony crest. He felt a brief pang at the thought of Lennier, who was the only Minbari one could even vaguely suspect of showing up in such an establishment, naturally only if dragged here by certain bored ambassadors. Vir had told him about Lennier’s departure. It would be a pity not to see the boy again.
He spotted Lyris and Dina with two wealthy-looking humans, both of them female this time. They were by far the prettiest sight in the room, Londo decided, including the stage show, but he wasn’t surprised to find a Kaibiri staring with rapture at a rather tired and plain looking boy. Whatever the Kaibiri thought he was getting was probably produced by one of the Wa’tia’ru’s telepaths. Which brought another idea to mind.
“Are you sure you won’t rather take Truth, G’kar?”
“Yes.”
Londo smirked. “In that case, I dare you to pick out the most attractive male in the room and kiss him.”
Gratifyingly, this brought G’kar on his feet. “Mollari!”
“It was your choice, remember. If you thought I’d tell you to do something crashingly dull and heroic, you obviously know me less than you think. Besides, you had your chances with the girls.”
G’kar managed to look both mortified and ready to kill at the same time. Even the soft cushions they were sitting on squeaked in protest when he slumped down again, seething.
“Don’t tell me you’re conceding defeat that early, G’kar.”
“No”, returned G’kar through clenched teeth, “but I will postpone fulfilling your…dare until this is ended. I certainly won’t wish to remain here afterwards.”
Londo shrugged. If this were Garibaldi or anyone else, he’d accuse them of trying to weasel out of it, but G’kar, at this point at least, was the honorable type.
“Suit yourself. A Truth for me, then.”
As he had remarked earlier, he believed this was a safe option for him, given everything G’kar already knew. Besides, G’kar’s next idea of a Dare would probably involve something even more painful then inviting Timov on board. Actually, it wouldn’t even be that unpleasant to see Timov again. She wore her hostility and disdain for him proudly, like a banner, which was why he had chosen her as his remaining wife, and would never stab him in the back, which was more than one could say of any other Centauri except for Vir. Sparring with Timov was almost as refreshing as sparring with G’kar, and the idea of her face if he organized an honour guard to greet her as the future empress made him smile in anticipation, so much he almost overheard G’kar’s question.
“Among all your deeds, which is the one you are most ashamed of?”
Of course. He should have expected this. With his two hearts, one of them newly mended, pumping in unison, Londo felt some stirrings of his own temper, an old anger rising in him.
“Do you wish a list, G’kar? I told you I am sorry. I will tell you again if that is what you want. But I thought you had accepted…”
“This isn’t what I have asked,” G’kar interrupted him. “You don’t listen, Mollari; you never do. I didn’t ask you for an apology, or even about your greatest regret. I asked you about your greatest shame. Don’t tell me you don’t know the difference, or I would have to assume you are even more hopeless than I already think you are.”
Cataloging emotions, fine-tuning them like a harp; how much a glutton for self-punishment would one have to be to do this on a regular basis? In earlier times, Londo would have dismissed the request with a glib aphorism and thought nothing of forfeiting the game, but too much had happened between them for this. The memories were there, snapping at his heels like they always did, and as in the night of his heart failure, he knew he couldn’t outrun them anymore. There were so many to choose from. Shame, was it? There was his first wife, the dancer, whom he regularily described as a harridan he had been glad to get rid off but who in reality had been a wonder he had sacrificed for family ambition. There was stripping G’kar of his rank and title in front of the council after Narn had fallen. There had been no need for this kind of humiliation. Those days were burned in his memory, engraved with acid that ate a little deeper each time he permitted himself to think of it, and it started with watching the mass drivers destroy the planet Narn in silence. Doing nothing.What he had felt then was too much to call it shame, or anger, or regret. But when he had returned to Babylon 5, finding Garibaldi and everyone else looking at him as if he dragged the millions of dead bodies the victory over Narn had cost behind, he had known fury, and shame, and he had vented both on G’kar, forcing him to leave.
Then there was the shame at being taken in by Morden a second time. He should have known better. He should have known that Morden was the one who had murdered Adira; in retrospect, it was so obvious. But he had allowed himself to be played, and being made an instrument some months longer. He had killed Refa because of it. Not that he could spare much regret for Refa, even now, but the way he had organized this particular murder, the gloating he had felt at the idea of Refa being torn to pieces by a horde of vengeful Narn, and the use of…
There it was.
“Vir”, Londo said bitterly. “The way I used Vir to set up Refa. It was different with Cartagia, later; that, he had agreed to, and knew it had to be done. But with Refa, I put him through hell and let him believe I would use him to murder you, and all so that Refa would be just a bit more convinced.”
He stared at his hands; middle-aged hands, with the freckles and blemishes age left, but otherwise spotlessly clean. It was quite disconcerting.
For a while, G’kar said nothing. His posture grew less rigid, and finally, he nodded.
“Why this,” he asked, and Londo could hear the unspoken “out of all the things you did” repeated. Yet G’kar did not sound accusing, or puzzled; he sounded like someone searching for a way.
“Because Vir trusted me. Because, in the end, and I don’t know why, Vir is the only being who ever managed to know exactly what I am and still to love me.”
“You surprise me, Mollari,” G’kar said, but added nothing more.
This time, they each drank an entire cup on silence, before Londo spoke again. “This doesn’t mean you’re of the hook with your Dare, you know.”
G’kar made a little noise between a disdainful snort and a regretful sigh.
“I never met someone so determined to evade…”
“…Enlightenment? Salvation? Peace? Bah. Keep it. It’s not for me anyway.”
“Everyone…” G’kar began, and Londo shook his head.
“You forget”, he said lightly, and smelled a whiff of an unexpectedly seductive perfume as an old woman made her way to a couch the waiters had prepared for her, “I know. We always do. We don’t know when, or why, but we know how, and you have seen it, too, that day you broke my mind up like a shell.”
Sometimes, he suspected that the Centauri ability to see the moment of their deaths was the ultimate proof that the universe was an evil place, but one with a sense of humour about it. Anyone longed for a bit of their future, any bit, as if it were scrappings from a wonderful, eternally unconsumed meal. But what more useless knowledge could one have than this one moment which nobody could evade?
They looked at each other, and Londo wondered whether G’kar, who at the time had not exactly been rational, even had realised that this was what he had seen in the end: the vision of Londo’s death at his hands, and his own death at Londo’s, the vision which had haunted Londo for years. Maybe he had assumed it had been one of Londo’s dreams. Well, now he knew better.
“So don’t talk to me of achieving a redemptive, peaceful state of mind,” Londo finished. “I already know how I will.”
“A Truth”, G’kar said, and it could be taken either as a confirmation of Londo’s statement or as a return to the game.
“Why didn’t you kill me then?” Londo whispered. “Or any of the times you could have.”
For the first time in their conversation, G’kar looked away. “You forget the punishment your people would have exacted on mine,” he said tersely.
“Is that why?”
“Those are two questions.”
Which wasn’t true, Londo thought, and a rather blatant evasion, even for G’kar. He could press the issue and insist on an answer. And G’kar would ultimately give it. But then the truce between them, the fragile understanding which had spun through necessary alliances and murder and torture and saved lives, would be shattered. It might not be able to survive the glare of that last truth, and Londo found he cared too much to take the risk.
“When a Narn learns subtlety, I know that the end is nigh,” he said instead. “My turn then. A Dare.”
He was startled when G’kar reached over the small table and touched his shoulder. Londo had seen G’kar pull chains apart with those hands, but it was only a light grip this time, the strength more hinted at than felt.
“Let go of your destiny,” G’kar said. “Let someone else become Emperor. Let go of it all, and leave it behind – Centauri Prime, your past, everything. Become a stranger in a strange world. I dare you.”
In his youth, Londo had once heard a song, sung by a voice of such overwhelming sweetness that he stopped showing off to his friend Ursa and listened, arrested. While the voice sung, it had seemed to him that everything was possible, that he was absolved from anything he ever did or would do, and that he should go and find the singer, immediately, and devote the rest of his life to this extraordinary person.
Then the song had ended, Ursa had laughed and asked whether he wanted to defeat their opponents at the next fencing competition by staring in the air like a mooncalf, and Londo had laughed as well. It had been an hour or more until he had been able to leave Ursa behind, pretending to have forgotten a task his uncle had entrusted him with. Then, he had searched for the unknown whose face he had never seen, but he never found either the singer, nor heard the song, ever again.
When G’kar spoke, the moment of his youth came back, and the recognition almost broke him. It was utter madness, and yet seemed plausible, and for a moment, he believed it could be. That G’kar had found the one way which would permit him to escape. The overwhelming sense of joy and relief swept him away, and he tried to cling to it, but with the next heartbeats, reality came back.
It wasn’t ambition. Londo had stopped hungering for the throne years ago. But he knew very well whose fault it was that the Vorlons had almost destroyed Centauri Prime. He knew who had made it possible for Cartagia to become Emperor and leave his legacy of madness and hate. He knew who had asked to take his people back to the stars, and changed them from the well-liked joke of the galaxy to a feared and distrusted power. The Centauri were the only love in his life he had never betrayed or abandoned. To seek freedom and leave them to the darkness he felt creeping closer in every inch of his body would be the final unforgivable act. He couldn’t do it. It was as simple as that.
“I can’t,” he said, very low, but he knew G’kar understood every word. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I concede the game.”
The fingers on his shoulder rested a moment longer, and then G’kar let go.
“I’m sorry, too, Londo.”
The use of his first name, something G’kar had done only once or twice before, was the crowning element of unreality. Like a swimmer gasping for air, Londo decided a quick change of element was in order. And he had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? G’kar would not pester him with his ill-judged attempts at conversion anymore. Which was a relief. Indeed it was.
“Not as sorry as you’ll be when I change your dare a bit,” he mused aloud. “Don’t think I have forgotten about that one, just because you won the game. This”, he waved his arms about, “fine establishment has far too small a selection. I should have dared you to take a pick among the council, or the command staff, or…”
“You can’t do that, Mollari”, G’kar said indignantly, and it was such a relief to hear him bluster again. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you set the rules of a game. But set they are, and if you think you can make me believe it is allowed to change Dares after the fact, you must have lost what wits you still possess.”
“That’s a Narn for you. All stiff neck and no sense of humour,” Londo muttered. “Fine. What do I care? But the game is over, I, for one, intend to retire, and you still haven’t delivered. If you don’t go through with this, G’kar, I’ll complain to Sheridan. With a detailed explanation. In front of Delenn, too.”
G’kar rose, and, after glaring at Londo, looked around. Then, to Londo’s surprise, his mottled, scaly face settled into something of a grin.
“This is a rather limited selection,” he agreed. “But as opposed to you, I am an honorable man, so…”
If Londo hadn’t been busy scanning the room for whom G’kar might pick, and had speculated just how this person would react to having their highly-paid entertainment interrupted by being suddenly approached by a glowering Narn, he would have seen it coming. As it was, he was utterly surprised, and sat in shock long after G’kar had left.
It was really amazing, Londo thought, rubbing his mouth, what some people would do to have the last word.
honorh now. Between me introducing her to Sandman and her introducing me to the Matrix, we have intermingling realities covered. Secondly,
melymbrosia wrote down some great thoughts about Chosen, and why it rocks as a finale for the show, hereThirdly, if you, like me, love Darla and have a soft spot for the Angel/Darla relationship, try
this story.
Fourthly, for a well-argued take on George Bush's newest pronouncements, read Cadesama here.
And lastly, despite my best intentions to do more Real Life stuff today, Londo and G'kar insisted I couldn't leave them hanging like that. So yes, the story is finished.
It took them a while to negotiate the rules of the game, since Londo wanted to modify them, and G’kar refused to participate in any game where Londo could set the parameters.
“I might take that as a slur regarding my gambling ethics,” Londo said.
“What ethics?” G’kar asked.
In fact, at first G’kar accused him of having made the entire game up, claiming that neither Sheridan nor Garibaldi had ever mentioned any such game as Truth or Dare. Since Sheridan had started his tenure on Babylon 5 bothering them all with a variety of Earth games – they shuddered in rare unity at the memory of baseball -, and Garibaldi had to know every game there was, Earth or otherwise, G’kar concluded triumphantly, it could not exist.
“Well, call him and ask,” Londo said, exasparated. “And if you want my opinion why neither of them ever mentioned it to you, it’s because they both had secrets they didn’t want to share, and they definitely didn’t want to be dared into suicidal rescue missions for Narn.”
The existence of Truth or Dare proven, they proceeded to argue about the modifications.
“It would be just like you to take Dare the entire time,” Londo remarked. “And since your epiphany in my suite which you kindly brought up earlier today, I don’t have any secrets you don’t know about anyway, so I could take Truth all the way without having anything to lose. Which would make for a dull game.”
G’kar muttered something about the novelty value of Londo telling nothing but the truth for an entire evening making up for any monotony, but in the end they agreed that one shouldn’t be allowed to take the same option for more than three times in a row, and that dares were not allowed to include anything that would endanger Centauri Prime or Narn.
Armed with some Earth whiskey, they started at last. G’kar, perhaps to make a point about not being as predictable as Londo claimed, picked Truth.
“Hm. Let’s see. It occurs to me that you never asked me who he was, so you must have met him. Tell me, G’kar, what did you reply to Mr. Morden?”
G’kar stapled his fingers. “How do you know I gave him any answer at all? Delenn didn’t.”
“No,” Londo said, feeling the warmth of the evening drain away, “Delenn didn’t. And Kosh didn’t. But I did, and if you tell me you didn’t, I won’t believe you.”
“I told him,” G’kar said slowly, “I told him I wanted to see every Centauri dead. I told him I wanted to carve flutes out of their bones.”
And why didn’t he take you up on it? Londo wondered. Why did he pick me instead? You weren’t then what you are now. You would have gone through with it, too, if he had given you the chance. The eternally selfish part in himself wished Morden had picked G’kar, no matter the consequences, because then it would be G’kar who would have the blood on his hands, G’kar who would still hear Morden whispering to him at night about retribution yet due and services rendered, with the human’s charming smile looking grotesque on a skull.
But if Morden had picked G’kar, the Centauri would be dead, and Centauri Prime would have been a pyre not only for Cartagia, but for an entire people. No. Anything but that. Londo had made his choices, and no matter the regrets, no matter what the future had in store for him, he would accept it all if it meant the Centauri were safe.
G’kar met his gaze, unflinching, and the silence between them bled with might-have beens. Londo sighed.
“Dare”, he said.
“Invite your wife Timov to visit you here,” G’kar replied, and Londo’s eyebrows shot upwards.
“I was joking earlier, G’kar,” he said, and drank some whiskey to cover his surprise.
“I’m not,” G’kar shot back and took the bottle from him.
“Ah. Now that dare is…surprising, but within the rules. Very well then. I shall invite Timov. May I ask…?”
“No,” G’kar interrupted firmly, “since I’m taking Dare next.”
The suspicion grew in Londo that he had started to lose the upper hand which he had so pleasantly maintained since they arrived in this establishment. Which was annoying, but then again, he had wanted the game to be a challenge. Covering his irritation, he let his gaze wander through the Wa’tia’ru. There weren’t any other Narn in sight, and only two or three other Centauri, who kept a well-advised discreet distance and pretended not to notice him and G’kar. Naturally not a single Minbari raised his bony crest. He felt a brief pang at the thought of Lennier, who was the only Minbari one could even vaguely suspect of showing up in such an establishment, naturally only if dragged here by certain bored ambassadors. Vir had told him about Lennier’s departure. It would be a pity not to see the boy again.
He spotted Lyris and Dina with two wealthy-looking humans, both of them female this time. They were by far the prettiest sight in the room, Londo decided, including the stage show, but he wasn’t surprised to find a Kaibiri staring with rapture at a rather tired and plain looking boy. Whatever the Kaibiri thought he was getting was probably produced by one of the Wa’tia’ru’s telepaths. Which brought another idea to mind.
“Are you sure you won’t rather take Truth, G’kar?”
“Yes.”
Londo smirked. “In that case, I dare you to pick out the most attractive male in the room and kiss him.”
Gratifyingly, this brought G’kar on his feet. “Mollari!”
“It was your choice, remember. If you thought I’d tell you to do something crashingly dull and heroic, you obviously know me less than you think. Besides, you had your chances with the girls.”
G’kar managed to look both mortified and ready to kill at the same time. Even the soft cushions they were sitting on squeaked in protest when he slumped down again, seething.
“Don’t tell me you’re conceding defeat that early, G’kar.”
“No”, returned G’kar through clenched teeth, “but I will postpone fulfilling your…dare until this is ended. I certainly won’t wish to remain here afterwards.”
Londo shrugged. If this were Garibaldi or anyone else, he’d accuse them of trying to weasel out of it, but G’kar, at this point at least, was the honorable type.
“Suit yourself. A Truth for me, then.”
As he had remarked earlier, he believed this was a safe option for him, given everything G’kar already knew. Besides, G’kar’s next idea of a Dare would probably involve something even more painful then inviting Timov on board. Actually, it wouldn’t even be that unpleasant to see Timov again. She wore her hostility and disdain for him proudly, like a banner, which was why he had chosen her as his remaining wife, and would never stab him in the back, which was more than one could say of any other Centauri except for Vir. Sparring with Timov was almost as refreshing as sparring with G’kar, and the idea of her face if he organized an honour guard to greet her as the future empress made him smile in anticipation, so much he almost overheard G’kar’s question.
“Among all your deeds, which is the one you are most ashamed of?”
Of course. He should have expected this. With his two hearts, one of them newly mended, pumping in unison, Londo felt some stirrings of his own temper, an old anger rising in him.
“Do you wish a list, G’kar? I told you I am sorry. I will tell you again if that is what you want. But I thought you had accepted…”
“This isn’t what I have asked,” G’kar interrupted him. “You don’t listen, Mollari; you never do. I didn’t ask you for an apology, or even about your greatest regret. I asked you about your greatest shame. Don’t tell me you don’t know the difference, or I would have to assume you are even more hopeless than I already think you are.”
Cataloging emotions, fine-tuning them like a harp; how much a glutton for self-punishment would one have to be to do this on a regular basis? In earlier times, Londo would have dismissed the request with a glib aphorism and thought nothing of forfeiting the game, but too much had happened between them for this. The memories were there, snapping at his heels like they always did, and as in the night of his heart failure, he knew he couldn’t outrun them anymore. There were so many to choose from. Shame, was it? There was his first wife, the dancer, whom he regularily described as a harridan he had been glad to get rid off but who in reality had been a wonder he had sacrificed for family ambition. There was stripping G’kar of his rank and title in front of the council after Narn had fallen. There had been no need for this kind of humiliation. Those days were burned in his memory, engraved with acid that ate a little deeper each time he permitted himself to think of it, and it started with watching the mass drivers destroy the planet Narn in silence. Doing nothing.What he had felt then was too much to call it shame, or anger, or regret. But when he had returned to Babylon 5, finding Garibaldi and everyone else looking at him as if he dragged the millions of dead bodies the victory over Narn had cost behind, he had known fury, and shame, and he had vented both on G’kar, forcing him to leave.
Then there was the shame at being taken in by Morden a second time. He should have known better. He should have known that Morden was the one who had murdered Adira; in retrospect, it was so obvious. But he had allowed himself to be played, and being made an instrument some months longer. He had killed Refa because of it. Not that he could spare much regret for Refa, even now, but the way he had organized this particular murder, the gloating he had felt at the idea of Refa being torn to pieces by a horde of vengeful Narn, and the use of…
There it was.
“Vir”, Londo said bitterly. “The way I used Vir to set up Refa. It was different with Cartagia, later; that, he had agreed to, and knew it had to be done. But with Refa, I put him through hell and let him believe I would use him to murder you, and all so that Refa would be just a bit more convinced.”
He stared at his hands; middle-aged hands, with the freckles and blemishes age left, but otherwise spotlessly clean. It was quite disconcerting.
For a while, G’kar said nothing. His posture grew less rigid, and finally, he nodded.
“Why this,” he asked, and Londo could hear the unspoken “out of all the things you did” repeated. Yet G’kar did not sound accusing, or puzzled; he sounded like someone searching for a way.
“Because Vir trusted me. Because, in the end, and I don’t know why, Vir is the only being who ever managed to know exactly what I am and still to love me.”
“You surprise me, Mollari,” G’kar said, but added nothing more.
This time, they each drank an entire cup on silence, before Londo spoke again. “This doesn’t mean you’re of the hook with your Dare, you know.”
G’kar made a little noise between a disdainful snort and a regretful sigh.
“I never met someone so determined to evade…”
“…Enlightenment? Salvation? Peace? Bah. Keep it. It’s not for me anyway.”
“Everyone…” G’kar began, and Londo shook his head.
“You forget”, he said lightly, and smelled a whiff of an unexpectedly seductive perfume as an old woman made her way to a couch the waiters had prepared for her, “I know. We always do. We don’t know when, or why, but we know how, and you have seen it, too, that day you broke my mind up like a shell.”
Sometimes, he suspected that the Centauri ability to see the moment of their deaths was the ultimate proof that the universe was an evil place, but one with a sense of humour about it. Anyone longed for a bit of their future, any bit, as if it were scrappings from a wonderful, eternally unconsumed meal. But what more useless knowledge could one have than this one moment which nobody could evade?
They looked at each other, and Londo wondered whether G’kar, who at the time had not exactly been rational, even had realised that this was what he had seen in the end: the vision of Londo’s death at his hands, and his own death at Londo’s, the vision which had haunted Londo for years. Maybe he had assumed it had been one of Londo’s dreams. Well, now he knew better.
“So don’t talk to me of achieving a redemptive, peaceful state of mind,” Londo finished. “I already know how I will.”
“A Truth”, G’kar said, and it could be taken either as a confirmation of Londo’s statement or as a return to the game.
“Why didn’t you kill me then?” Londo whispered. “Or any of the times you could have.”
For the first time in their conversation, G’kar looked away. “You forget the punishment your people would have exacted on mine,” he said tersely.
“Is that why?”
“Those are two questions.”
Which wasn’t true, Londo thought, and a rather blatant evasion, even for G’kar. He could press the issue and insist on an answer. And G’kar would ultimately give it. But then the truce between them, the fragile understanding which had spun through necessary alliances and murder and torture and saved lives, would be shattered. It might not be able to survive the glare of that last truth, and Londo found he cared too much to take the risk.
“When a Narn learns subtlety, I know that the end is nigh,” he said instead. “My turn then. A Dare.”
He was startled when G’kar reached over the small table and touched his shoulder. Londo had seen G’kar pull chains apart with those hands, but it was only a light grip this time, the strength more hinted at than felt.
“Let go of your destiny,” G’kar said. “Let someone else become Emperor. Let go of it all, and leave it behind – Centauri Prime, your past, everything. Become a stranger in a strange world. I dare you.”
In his youth, Londo had once heard a song, sung by a voice of such overwhelming sweetness that he stopped showing off to his friend Ursa and listened, arrested. While the voice sung, it had seemed to him that everything was possible, that he was absolved from anything he ever did or would do, and that he should go and find the singer, immediately, and devote the rest of his life to this extraordinary person.
Then the song had ended, Ursa had laughed and asked whether he wanted to defeat their opponents at the next fencing competition by staring in the air like a mooncalf, and Londo had laughed as well. It had been an hour or more until he had been able to leave Ursa behind, pretending to have forgotten a task his uncle had entrusted him with. Then, he had searched for the unknown whose face he had never seen, but he never found either the singer, nor heard the song, ever again.
When G’kar spoke, the moment of his youth came back, and the recognition almost broke him. It was utter madness, and yet seemed plausible, and for a moment, he believed it could be. That G’kar had found the one way which would permit him to escape. The overwhelming sense of joy and relief swept him away, and he tried to cling to it, but with the next heartbeats, reality came back.
It wasn’t ambition. Londo had stopped hungering for the throne years ago. But he knew very well whose fault it was that the Vorlons had almost destroyed Centauri Prime. He knew who had made it possible for Cartagia to become Emperor and leave his legacy of madness and hate. He knew who had asked to take his people back to the stars, and changed them from the well-liked joke of the galaxy to a feared and distrusted power. The Centauri were the only love in his life he had never betrayed or abandoned. To seek freedom and leave them to the darkness he felt creeping closer in every inch of his body would be the final unforgivable act. He couldn’t do it. It was as simple as that.
“I can’t,” he said, very low, but he knew G’kar understood every word. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I concede the game.”
The fingers on his shoulder rested a moment longer, and then G’kar let go.
“I’m sorry, too, Londo.”
The use of his first name, something G’kar had done only once or twice before, was the crowning element of unreality. Like a swimmer gasping for air, Londo decided a quick change of element was in order. And he had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? G’kar would not pester him with his ill-judged attempts at conversion anymore. Which was a relief. Indeed it was.
“Not as sorry as you’ll be when I change your dare a bit,” he mused aloud. “Don’t think I have forgotten about that one, just because you won the game. This”, he waved his arms about, “fine establishment has far too small a selection. I should have dared you to take a pick among the council, or the command staff, or…”
“You can’t do that, Mollari”, G’kar said indignantly, and it was such a relief to hear him bluster again. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you set the rules of a game. But set they are, and if you think you can make me believe it is allowed to change Dares after the fact, you must have lost what wits you still possess.”
“That’s a Narn for you. All stiff neck and no sense of humour,” Londo muttered. “Fine. What do I care? But the game is over, I, for one, intend to retire, and you still haven’t delivered. If you don’t go through with this, G’kar, I’ll complain to Sheridan. With a detailed explanation. In front of Delenn, too.”
G’kar rose, and, after glaring at Londo, looked around. Then, to Londo’s surprise, his mottled, scaly face settled into something of a grin.
“This is a rather limited selection,” he agreed. “But as opposed to you, I am an honorable man, so…”
If Londo hadn’t been busy scanning the room for whom G’kar might pick, and had speculated just how this person would react to having their highly-paid entertainment interrupted by being suddenly approached by a glowering Narn, he would have seen it coming. As it was, he was utterly surprised, and sat in shock long after G’kar had left.
It was really amazing, Londo thought, rubbing his mouth, what some people would do to have the last word.
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no subject
Date: 2003-08-01 09:50 am (UTC)I'll have to think about Londo's greatest shame - it sounds exactly right, and I hadn't thought about it that way before. (And I may have to use it in a future fic.) I also like the bits abut Londo's first wife, and the sweet camo for Ursa.
The dialogue as usual, was hilarious. The novelty of Londo telling the truth for an entire evening.
Is there going to be a follow-up when Timov arrives?
And the end was, while not really unexpected for anyone except Londo, just perfect.
*Blush*
Date: 2003-08-02 12:08 am (UTC)Greatest shame: feel free to use it, and I'm looking forwart to whatever story you'll use it in.
Londo's first wife: I thought the difference between the description he gives to Sinclair in the first season, and in his own mind in the fifth (i.e. in "The Very Long Night of Londo Mollari"), was rather poignant.
Timov: There might be a follow-up, but only if I can think of some things worth saying which haven't already been adressed. Also, it would have to be much later in season 5, because Londo and G'kar take off for a month or so to Centauri Prime not too long after my story, and then there's the problem of just when "Day of the Dead" takes place in canon. And of course the visit would have to be before things go seriously to hell for Londo and the Centauri.
Do I spy a fellow 'Scaper?!?
Date: 2003-08-01 10:18 am (UTC)I spy the Rah-Rah Evil!
Date: 2003-08-01 06:58 pm (UTC)Re: I spy the Rah-Rah Evil!
Date: 2003-08-01 11:52 pm (UTC)Yes, you do.
Date: 2003-08-01 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-01 02:04 pm (UTC)But this--“Let go of your destiny,” G'kar said. “Let someone else become Emperor. Let go of it all, and leave it behind – Centauri Prime, your past, everything. Become a stranger in a strange world. I dare you.”-- had me gasping. If only Londo could have taken that dare. As you can guess from my icon, Londo was my favorite character, he just broke my heart on a weekly basis, and you're keeping him right in character.
And thanks for pointing any Angel/Darla fans over to my story!
I don't think I ever...
Date: 2003-08-01 09:49 pm (UTC)Incidentally, did you read the short story JMS wrote about Londo and published in "Amazing Stories"?
Re: I don't think I ever...
Date: 2003-08-02 11:09 am (UTC)JMS' story...
Date: 2003-08-02 11:28 am (UTC)Another belated reply...
Date: 2003-08-11 09:15 pm (UTC)