Dual Minds

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are (mostly) my words. Scenes and words taken from the episode are interspersed throughout, and are set off in italics.

John felt a wave of nausea wash over him, so intense that he doubled over in an attempt to deny the Centauri guards the satisfaction of seeing him throw up. He saw Londo through the blurred red haze in front of his eyes, but when he tried to speak, nothing happened. He tried to straighten his stance, and realized in confusion that his body was not responding. Still, somehow, his body straightened and jerked at the guards' restraining grasp with no direction from him.

He heard a cold voice declaiming, "Welcome back from the abyss, Sheridan. Just in time to die."

Oh God, he thought, as the realization struck him. This is it. This is when it happened...this was the moment to which he'd jumped forward in time. That was why he couldn't move. His younger self was here, and he was trapped inside, reduced to watching it all happen. Again. He fought to wrest back control, to get through to himself. His son's life might depend on it, and he had to find out what was happening to Delenn, where they had taken her. He had to let himself know he was here.

Londo went on, "There's the legacy of your war. The price we paid when you abandoned us to the enemies you escaped from."

He heard himself say unbelievingly, "But this couldn't happen. Not in this amount of time. What year is this?"

"This is the last year, and the last day, and the last hour, of your life. Seventeen years since you began your little crusade. Seventeen years…"

His attention split as he half-listened to Londo's spiel, while trying frantically to think of what he could do. He'd never been able to remember all the details of the time-slip. The important things-- the devastation on Centauri Prime, the revelation that he and Delenn had a son, the warning she had given him--those he remembered vividly. He had no prior recollection of someone else being in his head; the awareness must be one way. As the guards roughly dragged him away to a cell, he could feel his younger self's confusion and dismay overwhelming him. Then, as the guards slammed him one last time in the kidneys, he fell to the cold damp floor, retching from the pain. The door slammed, locking him away from everything he cared about.

Eventually he managed to pull himself upright, feeling the pain from blows he'd experienced as from a distance. Still trying to remember details from the past, he was pacing the cell when it happened again…the nausea, the disorientation, the pain. He had barely registered his return to control before he lost it again. How many times would it, had it, happened? He couldn't remember any more. When he came to his senses the next time, he was leaning up against the rough stone wall, every muscle still aching from the multiple beatings. The cell door opened, with a sound that seemed muffled and distant.

He heard himself say hesitantly, "Who…who is it?"

"John?…John."

Her voice echoed in that part of his mind in which he was confined. Oh thank God, she was alive. He longed to reach out and pull her into his arms, but he couldn't make himself move. Careful and slow was how he had played things back then. He found it intensely frustrating.

Shocked at her presence, he asked, "Delenn? Delenn, what are you doing here?"

"I didn't tell them anything. They tried to make me, but I didn't. There is nothing they can do to me. They know that now."

Rage exploded in him as he realized they had hurt her, trying to make her talk. They would pay for that. At least she was here with him, that was something. Then she was in his arms, and he could feel her warmth pressing against him, as she fit herself into all his empty places. He couldn't force his body to respond as he wanted, and holding himself distant from her was almost painful.

"So they say they're allowing us one last moment together, until…it's all right, John. I accepted this fate a long time ago."

The aching fear in her voice tore him in two, but the submission in it almost undid him. She wanted this, wanted to die alongside him. He suspected she had secretly hoped for this outcome. Watching helplessly, his throat tightened as he listened to her repeat the words she had said so long ago to Sebastian.

"They cannot harm me. I am not afraid."

He thought now, as he had thought then, that she was the bravest person he had ever known.

"Not if you are with me."

Her hair had fallen into her eyes, and he longed to reach out and brush it back as he had a thousand times before. He wondered if she missed the familiar gesture.

"Our son is safe. That's all that matters."

It felt as if a shock wave hit as he realized what she meant. His mind flooded with memories as he strove to assimilate the astonishment and joy he felt at the revelation. He'd always wanted children, but after Anna had died, he'd let go of that dream. At the same moment he processed what she'd said…David was safe? Relief washed over him, and then she followed up with words he had once heard only in his dreams, and now heard daily in his reality.

"John, I love you."

He could feel his confused but enthusiastic response to his beloved wife's fervent embrace. How could he have forgotten for a moment how it had felt, that first time? It all came rushing back, the feel of her arms around him, the taste of her mouth, the subtle pressure of her lips. That first kiss was everything he had ever wished for, the fulfillment of his sweet daytime fantasies, and his sweat-soaked nighttime desires. He could feel both his younger self's instinctive reaction and his own experienced one. The ardor of dawning love was overlaid by the depth of the mature bond, and for a moment his two selves merged in their feelings for this one woman.

Still reeling from the dual emotions flooding through him, he heard himself explaining what had happened-- that he wasn't really supposed to be there, that it wasn't really him. It was right to tell her, but it wasn't what the woman in front of him wanted to hear. He chafed at his inability to comfort her as he knew she needed. He heard her answer, shock and concern evident in her voice.

"In Valen's name. It's true, isn't it? I can see it in your eyes. You told me once, long ago, that you had seen this moment in our future. Till now I never really believed. John, there's so much ahead of you, so many changes, so much pain and grief."

Pain and grief, he thought in dismay. His pain and grief, or hers? He had made his choices with the best of intentions and careful consideration of the costs and benefits, as careful as he could manage at the time. It wasn't until later he realized the depths of the costs that others would pay.

"I look in your eyes now, and I see the innocence that went away so many years ago. But then, you don't know any of what's happened, do you?"

Frustrated by her preoccupation with his ignorance and her still-corrosive guilt, he tried again to break through the mental constraints and offer her some comfort. 'It's not your fault. It was never your fault.' His voice fell silently into the void separating them.

He heard himself asking about the war and its outcome. Even in his distress, he smiled internally, remembering when the war was the most important thing in his life. So much had depended on their decisions, their actions…now, seventeen years later, his focus was much closer to home.

"But the price, John, the terrible, terrible price."

His heart ached to hear her. 'It had to be paid, my love.'

"I didn't think I would see you again, before the end."

Lost in his own turbulent emotions, he almost missed the determination that flooded his younger self. 'I'll never leave you. Not if the whole universe stands between us.' He wasn't sure which of them made that vow. As the guards gestured them out of the cell, he put a protective arm around her as he'd done before, once and a thousand times. The caution in his approach surprised him again. He felt both certain and strangely uncertain, like he was walking a familiar daytime path in the blackest part of the night.

The events in Londo's chamber came back to him just before they happened, which gave the interview the appalling feel of an echo-filled nightmare. The plan Londo held out for escape seemed far-fetched and unlikely to succeed, but he grasped at it as he always had at any sense of hope. His younger self seemed as attentive as he was, which was fortunate since he could not be sure which of them would be in charge of his body during the escape attempt. Then, as they hurried along the corridor to the waiting ship, he felt what was to be the final transposition come on him. With an awful feeling of doom, he heard Delenn's final words to the John returning to the past.

"John, listen to me! Do not go to Z'ha'dum. Do you understand? Do not go to Z'ha'dum!"

It was agony to hear her plea, knowing the fear that lay behind it. She knew why he had to go; yet she couldn't help trying to save him at the last, no matter the cost. He knew what was at stake; given his trust and faith in Delenn's judgment, it was possible he would heed her advice, and not go to the homeworld of the Shadows. The results would be potentially disastrous. His return from Z'ha'dum had been a pivotal event in the war.

He had to go so that he could come back, had to die so that he could live. With every ounce of effort he could muster, he tried to project to the forefront of his mind a message contradicting hers—that he should and must go, that everything depended on his going. He threw in the idea that Centauri Prime might be saved if he went. He knew that would appeal to his younger self. What had Lorien said to him? 'You cannot save them all.' He always tried. He had always tried.

In the confusion of those last moments when his two selves were still melded, a small silent space emerged in his mind. He heard his name whispered, and stepped into the silence.

"You did well."

He hadn't heard that musical voice in years, but he had never forgotten it. "Did he hear me?"

"Yes."

"So it will all happen. Just like I remembered."

"Yes."

"I never got to say how sorry I was for what happened to you."

"It was necessary."

"Will he remember everything? I never could."

"All will be as it was. As it has always been."

"I miss having you in my head, you know."

*Silence* "We must return now. I will see you at the end, and again, in the beginning."

He thought about that for a moment, then simply answered, "Yes. You will."

This last time the pain and nausea faded quickly. His wife looked at him piercingly as she helped him stay upright, "You are back then?"

John looked at her, wondering at her focused concern in the face of the destruction and danger that surrounded them, and that which lay ahead. She must know that her attempt to change his fate had failed, that everything would go on as foretold. Still, he saw nothing but acceptance in her face; her normal calm overtaken by joy in their reunion. He reassured her with a smile, "Yes, I'm back. Come on, we have to get out of here."

As they headed down the corridor, hope flared in John like a beacon. They were going to make it, thanks to the old Centauri who remained behind, trapped in solitary splendor on his gilded throne. 'We all have our keepers', Londo had said, and that was true. John noticed that Delenn stayed close by him as they hurried after the guard, constantly reaching for him, as if to reassure herself that he was still there. He was, and would be as long as he was able. Catching hold of her hand, he gripped it tightly. For he was the keeper of her conscience, and she was the keeper of his heart. And so long as they kept faith in one another, nothing could stop them.