"Remember"

Babylon 5 and its characters belong to J. Michael Straszynski and PTEN productions. They are borrowed with nothing but the deepest respect and admiration. No infringement is intended. This little scene takes place immediately following the extraordinary two-part episode "War Without End."

	Michael Garibaldi sat alone in his quarters, silent, 
unmoving, in total darkness. Even taking a breath was too hard, 
each time his lungs expanded he felt as though he'd explode with 
pain. Eight hours of waiting, praying, hope against hope, that 
somehow his best friend would be on that ship when it returned, 
even though Jeff himself had said he would not be. The sick 
dread had grown within him, moment by moment, until it had 
taken only one glance at Delenn's weary, haunted face to know 
the truth.
	They had tried to explain, but he had hardly listened. It 
was crazy. Minbari religious nonsense, and none of it meant 
anything. None of it could bring Jeffrey Sinclair back. And he 
felt...betrayed. By all of them. Marcus was sworn to protect the 
man he called 'Entil'Zha', Susan had been his friend. And 
Delenn...who had known even before any of them that this was 
coming, had done nothing to stop it. As for Sheridan, it had 
been all Michael could do to keep from hitting him, but he had 
known somewhere deep inside, that if he had taken that one first 
swing, he'd have never been able to stop until the Captain was 
dead.
	Even so, he'd let his words strike for him. "You wanted 
this, you sonovabitch!" he'd screamed, uncaring of who 
overheard. "You've been jealous of him since the day you came 
here. You'll never be half the man Jeff is...was...and you know 
it. So let him go to his death without even trying to prevent it. 
You should be the one who's dead!"
	Delenn had reached out to him in protest, even as 
Sheridan had frozen, a look of horrified shock transfixing his 
youthful features.
	"No, he's not dead. Not really...I mean..." Delenn 
stumbled to a halt, unable to find the proper words and he'd 
turned angrily on her.
	"Give it up," he'd snarled. "Don't give me anymore of 
that bullshit about Jeff transforming himself into some ancient 
Minbari holy man. Save it for someone who gives a damn." 
Turning away before they could see the tears threatening to 
sting his eyes, he had fled the room. Ran blindly down the halls, 
ending up in his quarters not for any good reason except the 
simplest habit.
	And now...now. He couldn't even find the tears. Jeff's 
somber voice kept ringing in his ears. "You see, Michael. I'm 
not coming back from Babylon 4, and if you went too, you 
wouldn't be coming back either. I couldn't let that happen."
	"Dammit Jeff!" he shouted to the empty walls. "Why 
do you always have to play the hero? Why is it always *your* 
life that must be put on the line? Why didn't you let me make 
that choice for myself? It's not fair. It's just not fair."
	Burrowing his face in his hands, he shook with silent 
sobs, unable to bring forth a sound or squeeze a drop of liquid 
from his burning eyes. The pain ran too deep, he felt so sick  
inside he thought he'd die from sheer agony of it all. His PPG sat 
abandoned in his holster, he hadn't even bothered to think of 
using it. Somehow, he was past even that. The pain, at least, 
was something to hold onto. Something that reminded him of 
the one true friend he'd just lost.
	 The door chime rang. He ignored it.
	 It sounded again. He ignored it again.
	The door swished open anyway, letting in a rush of air 
and light into the stifled, blackened room. A large figure loomed 
in the doorway, standing dark against the light. Michael didn't 
wait to see who his intruder was, he moved by instinct alone. 
Sweeping his PPG out of its holster, he aimed it without getting 
up out of his seat.
	"Don't shoot!" came the strongly accented, gravely 
voice of the former Narn Ambassador G'Kar. The identity of his 
visitor was enough of a surprise to penetrate even the shock of 
the moment, and Michael paused just long enough to throw out 
a question.
	"How the hell did you get in here?"
	"I got the Captain to give me an authorization code," 
G'Kar responded, stepping fully into the room.
	Somehow that struck Michael as funny, and he started 
to laugh, though the sound came out bitter and cold. It only 
lasted a moment, and then he said fiercely, "well you can take 
your code and get the hell out!"
	G'Kar loomed over him, refusing to move. "Not yet. 
Not until you see what I've come to show you, and listened to 
what I have to say."
	"Forget it." Michael swept his hand at the silent, dark 
room. "Can't you see I'm busy right now? Why don't you call my 
office and make an appointment? I'm sure I can squeeze you in 
next week sometime."
	"No, you will see me now," G'Kar replied firmly.
	With an angry growl, Michael leapt up out of his seat, 
only to have an amazingly powerful hand shove him right back 
down. He fell heavily against the couch, the PPG dropping to 
the floor with a loud clatter. The big Narn leaned down over 
him, and said softly, but with unmistakable certainty. "You will 
listen to me *now*"
	"All right, all right," Michael had no choice but to give 
in. "Why not? What does it matter anyhow? OK, you can let me 
up now, G'Kar. Lights."
	As the room flooded with a steady stream of light from 
the ceiling tiles, G'Kar pushed himself up off of the smaller 
human and sat down on the couch beside him. Bending over, he 
retrieved an object from the floor where he had dropped it 
earlier. With reverential care, he brought an ancient, loosely-
bound set of parchments up into his lap.
	"Look, G'Kar, I've learned some neat stuff from your 
Book of G'Kwan, but I'm really not in the mood right now for 
another history lesson." It was tough to keep his voice from 
breaking, but Michael was an expert at hiding his feelings, and 
those years of practice came in handy. 
	"I know. But *this* you have to see. I promised that I 
would bring these to you now, and I will keep that promise."
	Michael threw the Narn a suspicious glance. "Promised 
*who*?" he demanded, though he knew the answer before it 
came.
	"Ambassador Sinclair. He came to see me before he 
left."
	"He came to see *you*!" Michael pounded a fist into 
his thigh, barely noticing the pain. Jeff had managed to see just 
about everyone, it seemed, except him. The fact that he had 
been away, investigating the disturbances in Sector 14 didn't 
make a difference. Jeff had deliberately avoided him, and that 
hurt. Couldn't he at least have waited to say goodbye in person?
	"There wasn't time. History does not tend to be 
patient," G'Kar easily read and answered his unspoken question.
	Michael swore under his breath, shaking his head. 
"Don't you start giving me more of that bullshit about Jeff being 
this great Minbari hero...what's his name..."
	"Valen," G'Kar finished for him. Michael shot him a 
daggered look, but the Narn was unfazed. "Before you make 
final judgment, perhaps you should take a look at this first." He 
undid the ribbon holding the fraying parchments together, and 
carefully opened them to a marked page. Withdrawing the single 
document with meticulous care, he held it out in front of the 
disbelieving human.
	"This is a section, the *only* section remaining from 
G'Kwan's diaries. His Book survives to this day, nearly 
complete, but his own private records were almost totally lost 
when the Centauri conquered my world the first time. My family 
managed to recover and hide this one piece, and it is the most 
prized possession I own. I have never shown it to anyone except 
one or two of our priests - until Sinclair came to see me 
yesterday."
	"So..." Michael shrugged, trying to appear uncaring; 
unwilling to sit through another damned history lesson while his 
best friend was off riding a space station down some blasted 
tunnel in time.
	"So..." G'Kar took him literally. "G'Kwan knew Valen. 
The Minbari came to Narn to help solidify the alliance between 
our peoples against the Shadows. G'Kwan led the Narn in that 
battle, but he led them to Valen's call. And here, in these pages, 
is his record of that first meeting, including a drawing of Valen 
himself. Drawn by G'Kwan's own hand." G'Kar pushed the page 
further into Michael's line of sight, and reluctantly, the human's 
eyes were drawn downwards to it.
	Centered on the page was a inked sketch of a face, the 
eyes seeming to burn their way through the page itself, so 
intense was the fire that lit them from within. A characteristic 
Minbari crest rose above a domed forehead, but it was the 
square forceful chin, the full mouth, and above all those eyes - 
those incomparable eyes - that struck the observer like a fist in 
his gut.
	Michael shook his head, as though clearing cobwebs 
from his mind, then he grabbed the drawing from G'Kar's hand. 
The Narn protested faintly, but fell silent as the human jumped 
to his feet and walked over to switch on a decorative lamp. 
Holding the sketch up to the additional light, he stood silently, 
totally focused, for an endless moment, then his shoulders 
sagged and his knees almost buckled beneath him.
	Michael never quite noticed it when G'Kar seized him 
from behind and dragged him back to the couch. His eyes 
couldn't leave that face - that too familiar, too strange face. It 
*was* Jeff and it *wasn't* Jeff. It was him, and it wasn't him. 
But he knew those eyes, and that jaw, and the expression itself. 
He knew them even better than he knew his own. How often 
had he sat and looked into them, watching those chocolate- 
colored orbs alter from humor to anger, from compassion to 
anguish. And finally, the truth of it sank in.
	"It's all true," he whispered hoarsely, his own voice 
coming from a thousand miles away.
	"It is so," G'Kar answered.
	"My God, Jeff..." Michael's voice trailed off in total 
astonishment. "Oh my God." He fell silent, unable to cope with 
this revelation.
	G'Kar let him sit in silence for a while, respecting this 
man's anguish and his love for his friend. When he felt that time 
enough had passed, he spoke slowly, thoughtfully.
	"G'Kwan wrote much of Valen in his diaries, and there 
is some, also, in the Book as well. But listen to what he says 
here...listen: 'The light itself poured through him, blazing from 
his eyes as though they alone could break the hold of darkness. 
The light formed in his hands, and he raised it above us all, 
through us all, and led us forth against the Great Darkness like a 
blazing sword. He stood against the stars themselves, and they 
shook before him. He drove us ever forward, and together we 
scattered the Shadows outwards, chasing them beyond the edge 
of the universe. He brought us to triumph, creating a temple to 
the light that will shine for a hundred generations. We will honor 
his name. We will not forget.'"
	G'Kar's voice deepened as he finished quoting, and 
began to speak from his own heart. "I know what it is to lose a 
friend. I know what it is to lose a loved one. My people were 
the first to fall to the Darkness that is coming for us all, but we 
will not be the last. I have borne my burden, made my sacrifice 
to the cause of the light - and now it is *his* turn. *Your* turn. 
I wish...I wish it could have been otherwise for you as well as 
for us. My people..." His voice threatened to break, but he too 
had long practice at holding in that pain, and he did so yet again.
	"Your friend has gone to a great destiny, Mr. 
Garibaldi. He has been called to the service of the Light and that 
is a call that cannot be ignored without great evil resulting. He 
was *needed*. Without him, without Valen, our peoples would 
have lost the last Great War. And if that had happened, the cost, 
the terrible, terrible cost, would make what my people are now 
suffering look as to nothing. The last thousand years of 
civilization, of life itself, would cease to have existed. He *had* 
to go, he knew that, he accepted it. When he came to me 
yesterday, he was a man at peace. A man who had found the 
purpose for which he had been shaped, the cause for which he 
had been born. Honor the choice that he made, Mr. Garibaldi. 
Honor him, as the Minbari have done for a thousand years. As 
my people have done. He has given us all a chance at life."
	"But why him?" Michael gasped out, staggering 
beneath the weight of these incredible truths. "Why Jeff?! Why 
does it always have to be *him*."
	G'Kar paused for a moment, finding it difficult to frame 
the answer. "Because it is who he is."
	Michael threw him an look of pure irritation and G'Kar 
couldn't help chuckling. Then he tried again. "I know that 
sounds like something the damned Vorlon would say, but it is 
the simple truth. Jeffrey Sinclair became Valen because he had 
what it took to become Valen. Because he was, as you earthers 
say, 'the right man for the job.'" G'Kar peered closely at 
Michael's pale face. "And I think that deep down in your heart, 
you know that I am right. I think that you could give me more 
examples than I could ever offer you of ways in which Sinclair 
proved his worthiness for this great task. But if it will help you 
honor and remember your friend, I can tell you one of mine."
	Michael sat back, all the remaining energy leaching 
from his body. He had been strung so tightly, that now he felt 
worse than an overcooked noodle. The worst of the sorrow and 
pain had lessened, though he knew it was not finished with him 
yet. But there was a kernel of truth in G'Kar's words. How many 
times had he seen Jeff reach out to the people of this station? 
How many times had Sinclair found a course of action that 
turned disaster into triumph, violence into peaceful accord, 
anger and distrust into cooperation? Michael had never doubted 
that his friend would find a great destiny, but he had always 
assumed that it would be here, or in the future. That he, himself, 
would be there to help and support his friend. That...
	That at least he'd have a chance to say goodbye. 
	Swallowing hard, Michael brushed away the tears that 
had somehow managed to leak down his cheeks unnoticed. 
G'Kar was now silent, watching him, and Michael had to 
struggle to remember what G'Kar had asked him. When he did 
remember, he found himself nodding slowly.
	Looking up through liquid-filled eyes, he answered 
softly. "I think I'd like to hear your story, G'Kar."
	"Good," G'Kar said, smiling broadly. "It began on the 
eve of the most important religious ceremony of my people's 
religion...."

The End