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Four Medlab Visits (a Babylon 5 fic)
Well, it has happened, with its usual inevitability - I watched 5x02 on Friday night, and 6K of fic fell into my head over the weekend. *sighs deeply, adds a new fanfic tag*
Four Medlab Visits (and one visitor who waited until after) (6048 words) by Sholio
Chapters: 5/5
Fandom: Babylon 5 (TV 1993)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Delenn & Londo Mollari, Vir Cotto & Londo Mollari, Michael Garibaldi & Londo Mollari, G'Kar & Londo Mollari
Characters: Londo Mollari, Vir Cotto, Stephen Franklin, Delenn (Babylon 5), G'Kar (Babylon 5), Michael Garibaldi, John Sheridan, Elizabeth Lochley
Additional Tags: Episode: s05e02 The Very Long Night of Londo Mollari, Missing Scene, Friendship, Bonding
Summary: Tag/missing scenes for "The Very Long Night of Londo Mollari." What it says on the tin.
Or read it here!
1. Delenn
Delenn put her sorrow away, put her heart away, after bidding farewell to Lennier at the docks. There was one other she needed to see before she started her day's tasks, one who was still with them.
The medlab was quiet, and largely deserted. Delenn smiled and bowed briefly to the doctor who was at the duty station, one of the newer personnel that she did not know by name. "Hello. I am here to see Ambassador Mollari, if he is receiving visitors."
The human woman smiled back. "Yes, he's resting, I think. His Centauri friend just left. But you're welcome to go see if he's awake."
Delenn dipped her head in thanks and went through the medlab to where she could see the lights indicating an occupant. The small room was accessible through an open doorway, and she could see Londo in the bed, propped up and, as the doctor had said, resting. It was hard to tell if he was actually asleep or not; his eyes were closed, and one hand was curled lightly on a decorated scroll case in his lap, in the Centauri court style.
He looked much better than the last time that she had seen him, although he was still pale and drawn - and still, in a way that was not quite so absolute, so final as how she had seen him last night, but incongruous nevertheless. It was as John had observed: seeing him bereft of that energy that animated him was a strange thing indeed.
Delenn cleared her throat softly, prepared to turn and leave if he didn't respond. But he opened his eyes, blinked, and abruptly raised his head.
"Delenn!" The look on his face was one she wasn't sure she had seen from him before: it was surprised, soft, open, hopeful even, though it changed quickly to something more familiar - welcoming, pleased, but a little guarded in the way he always was. He waved a hand with the courtly grace of his typical official manner, gesturing her into his infirmary room as if it was the ambassadorial quarters. "Come in, come in. You will excuse me if I don't get up. Or offer refreshments. Well, there is this." He touched a bedside table, swung out of the way, with a largely untouched meal tray. "You may have any part of this that you wish. Please, do me a great favor and take it off my hands."
Delenn smiled. There was a chair near the bed, and she sat, swinging her skirts into place. "I do not need refreshments; I have already eaten. I came to see you. How are you?"
Again a quick flicker of that unaccustomed softness. He really was different these days, she thought. "Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, as you can see. I am - what is it the humans say? Fit as a fiddle. Whatever that is. Or I will be, as soon as the doctor sees fit to release me from this cushioned jail cell."
But he was very tired, she could see it by the smudges of exhaustion and illness beneath his eyes, the bloodless pallor. He truly had almost died; she and John had received the report from Dr. Franklin in a message sent to both their quarters last night, after the worst was over.
"Do they know when you'll be released?" she asked.
Another brief wave of a hand she was not used to seeing without its rings and jewels, just the bare fingers now, and the loose sleeve of an invalid's robe. "A day or two, no more. You know us Centauri, we are a resilient people."
"I cannot contradict you about that. From what I have heard, you fought a hard battle last night, and won."
Londo grimaced, and for the first time she thought she saw the shadow of awareness of just how close he had come to the door that opened one way only. "And I hope I will not have to again anytime soon." He paused, and she could see him swing on a moment of indecision, then pivot into determination. "I ... do not know if this is just a dream, I had a lot of them while I lay indisposed, but I - I remember hearing your voice."
"Oh yes, I was here." She smiled at him, appreciating that soft openness that came and went, that was so strange on him - but welcome, she decided; she liked it. "I sat with you for a while, and spoke to you a little. I'm glad to know you could hear me."
Guardedness once more chased the softness from his features, but didn't quite hide the warmth it left behind. "I would have thought you would react to the news of my imminent demise with a celebration. 'Oh, Mollari is dead, one less thorn in my side', yes?"
"I am as surprised as you are that this is not at all the case. And to that end, I will leave you to enjoy the rest you were plainly in need of when I arrived." She got up, but paused. The Centauri were a people who touched each other a lot. At least, he was. So she reached out, brushed her hand down his sleeve, let it rest for a moment on top of his. "I am glad you are still with us, Londo," she said, and as a surprised look of pleasure washed over his face, she withdrew her hand swiftly, turned, and left with a much lighter step than she had come.
2. Vir
"Londo, I brought the --" Vir halted abruptly and dropped his voice, acutely conscious of the extra bulk under his jacket, the bottle resting against his ribs. "Things. That you asked for."
"Get in here," Londo hissed at him from the bed, waving him vigorously forward. "Stop looking so guilty, a person could see it from space. Just give me the --"
"Are you smuggling food into Medlab, Vir?"
Dr. Franklin had come up behind him. Vir jumped, felt the bottle slip from under his jacket, and managed to catch it by the top.
But Franklin was faster, slipping a hand under it and deftly swiping it away. "You're smuggling alcohol into Medlab? Oh, Vir."
"He told me to," Vir protested, while Londo seemed to be trying to decide whether to settle on offended dignity or offended innocence, and doing neither very well. "I didn't want to. But he can be very ... persuasive." And it was also possible that Vir hadn't tried quite as hard as he might have to sneak the contraband through the medlab successfully.
"Let me see what you've got there." As Vir dutifully handed the items over, Franklin sorted rapidly through them. "Not that. Definitely not that. Okay, this he can have. And this one. Absolutely no alcohol. Londo," he said, rounding on his patient, who broke off mouthing complaints at Vir and went immediately into wide-eyed innocence. "Do you want to end up right back on the operating table with a double coronary? Did you enjoy the entire experience enough that you're eager to repeat it?"
"You told me you sent for medical equipment from Homeworld," Londo said.
"An artificial heart, yes. I can assure you that you'd enjoy the process of implantation and the three-month recovery period even less than what you're currently experiencing." He stopped, took a breath, and set the bottle of brivari on the infirmary room's window ledge (Vir noticed Londo following it with his eyes) so that he had a hand free to run it down his face. After that, he went on, "Okay, look. Once you're out of Medlab, I can't make you do anything. You're a full grown adult, you're not under my jurisdiction like the crew, and if you want to ignore my advice, then I can't do much about it. But while you're here, you'll be eating a heart-healthy diet, and --" He snatched the brivari bottle off the window ledge. "--absolutely no alcohol! Don't tire him out," he added sternly to Vir, and left.
"That's property of the Centauri government, you know!" Londo called after him, leaning forward in the bed. "I want a receipt!"
Vir set the few items that had escaped Franklin's winnowing on the bedside tray. "I tried," he pointed out. "You saw me try."
"I saw you try and fail," Londo grumbled, settling back in the bed. "Sometimes I wonder, Vir, if it's a natural talent or if you practice being incomp--" He stopped so abruptly that Vir, who had been tuning him out through long practice and was already thinking ahead to the handful of diplomatic documents that were going to be necessary to process before Londo was back in his office, found his thoughts derailed. Londo said nothing for a heartbeat or two, then just as abruptly started speaking again. "No, it's my fault for asking you, I shouldn't have. Do not think anything of it." He began picking among the treats on the bedside tray. "Oh, you did find some of those little fruits from Beta I. They are hard to get at this time of year. Good work."
Vir stared at him. "Londo, are you feeling all right? Do you want me to get the doctor?"
"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Londo waved him to sit down. "What of the trade agreement with the Drazi on import duties for goods passing through the station en route to our worlds -- is there any movement on that?"
Back on more familiar ground, Vir went quickly down the last couple of days' diplomatic developments and the latest political news from Homeworld ... slightly redacted for anything that might cause Londo undue stress. Vir would worry about the consequences later.
"A quiet week," Londo murmured, leaning back against his pillows. He had been idly picking at the fruits, but it was obvious to Vir that whatever he claimed, his energy and appetite had barely begun to rebound.
"Yes, I think that's all we need to do for now." Vir rose from his chair. "In fact I'll just let you relax a little, I should really get the Drazi paperwork passed back to Homeworld. Can I bring you anything else? That I'm allowed to bring you," he added hastily.
"No, no, nothing. Not since I am not allowed brivari and it has been decided that I am to wither away on a diet of leafs." Londo raised his voice as he said this, aiming it at the medlab staff generally, who ignored him. Slumping back into his pillows with a sigh, he eyed Vir. "Actually, there is something that you can bring me, now that I think of it."
"Yes, Londo, whatever you want. What is it?"
"Some necessary viewing materials for research purposes while I am resting."
"You aren't supposed to be working," Vir said, slightly guiltily, because they more-or-less had been doing exactly that.
Londo waved a hand. "It is no matter. I will not overly exert myself. You will find the items I need in the chest of drawers beside my bed in my quarters. Top left drawer. Or top right. Either is good. Just bring a few of the most easily accessible ones, I am not picky."
Vir sputtered. "You want me to smuggle porn into the medlab?"
"What? It's not a food, so it can't be off limits according to the local constabulary."
"Londo, I think it very much can be off limits, because it can't be good for your hearts!"
"You want me to die of boredom in this place?" Londo asked, wilting dramatically on his pillows.
"I want you to not die at all!"
It came out more vehemently than Vir intended, and for a minute they simply stared at each other. Then Londo sighed and a smile flickered around the exhaustion-drawn corners of his mouth. He gazed at Vir with a look that Vir, who was used to reading Londo's moods, did not know how to read in the slightest.
"We all die someday, Vir," Londo said softly, at last. "But I'll try not to -- to do it in front of you again, yes?"
"They stuck a needle in your chest," Vir said. His eyes were stinging. He didn't want that, but he also didn't want those images in his head. "And they had to shock you to get your heart started again. A lot of times. Londo, it was awful."
Don't die, he heard himself say, the words echoing in his head.
"It was not exactly a fun stroll in the park for me either," Londo said. He was smiling again, in a way that was rare for him, soft and wistful. Reaching out, he patted Vir's hand lightly. "I mean it. I will try not to do it in front of you, or, or make you feel culpable, I suppose. You don't need to bring me anything, except more of those fruits, if you can get them."
"I will get them," Vir promised. He put a hand briefly over Londo's, slightly unnerved by how cold Londo's fingers were, and how weak. "You just rest now."
As he turned away to leave, Londo said with a brief resurgence of energy, "But do see if you can get my brivari back from that -- that thief!"
"Right away, Londo!" Vir said over his shoulder, and he veered his course to bring him past Dr. Franklin's duty station. Franklin was seated, engrossed in paperwork on the computer, but evidently saw him approach, because he held up the bottle as Vir got close. He kept a hand firmly locked around it when Vir reached for it, however.
"This goes straight out of Medlab or I'm not giving it back."
"Straight out," Vir promised, and Franklin relinquished it. "How long is he supposed to not drink?"
"Well, for the rest of his life, ideally, especially given the way he drinks, but I'll settle for a week or two." Franklin looked up, steadily gazing at Vir. "You care a lot about him, don't you? An awful lot."
"Yes," Vir said quietly. "I didn't think I was going to, you know," he added in a burst of slightly guilty honesty.
"I didn't think any of us thought we were going to," Franklin sighed. "Look, it's not your fault that he makes lousy choices. He's probably going right back to wrecking his health as soon as he's out of here, and that's not your fault, either."
"I know," Vir said. He smiled, then; he'd stopped feeling like he was going to cry, but the tremulous feeling hadn't left him completely. "Thank you for saving his life, Doctor. I know he probably won't think to say it, but he's grateful. And so am I."
Franklin's tired exasperation relaxed into a grin. "Don't let him run you ragged, at least not until he's out of here. We have medical staff waiting on him."
"It's okay. I like doing it. It's sort of like ..." Vir shrugged a little. "I couldn't help him the other night. I couldn't do anything except watch. But this I can do."
"I get that, I guess." Franklin pointed at the bottle. "But no more alcohol."
"No more alcohol," Vir promised.
3. Garibaldi
Michael strolled into the medlab with a bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey, Stephen, I'm here to see your most annoying patient."
Stephen looked around from an incomprehensible medical machine, on which he was reviewing incomprehensible medical things, and laughed. "I don't have to ask who that is. Yeah, knock yourself out." He pointed to the bag. "Unless there's anything medically contraindicated in there."
"No. It's his clothes, stuff like that. Vir asked me to bring it."
"Oh good, one step closer to galactic peace, at least the medlab corner of it."
"Letting him out, then?"
"No reason to keep him too much longer, if the latest bloodwork comes back clear of any further heart attack markers. All he needs now is rest, and he can do that in his quarters. In the meantime, though, he is still our problem, so don't tire him out too much."
Michael made an acknowledging gesture and sauntered over to the patient bays. No particular difficulty figuring out which one Londo was in, because he was arguing with a medtech.
"No, no, no. Draw the blood from the other arm, hmm? I am black and blue here. Black and blue! Do you know Centauri anatomy at all? Do you know we Centauri do not have major blood vessels at the surface of our arms? I don't think you do, because if you did, you would not have to stab, stab, stab to find one. Stab stab stab, poke poke poke - ow!"
Michael leaned against the doorframe and watched in amusement until the tech left with the samples. On her way out the door, she gave Michael an exasperated look that he returned with a grin and a slight shrug.
"Mr. Garibaldi," Londo said, seeing him, "let me give you a piece of sage advice, and that advice is, do not argue with a woman holding needles and putting them in you." He rubbed his arm through the thin sleeve of the infirmary gown. "Unless of course it is necessary."
"Like you just did?" Michael asked cheerfully. He slung the bag off his shoulder and dropped it on the shelf beside the bed. "Here, it's your get-out-of-jail clothes. Apparently they had to cut the other ones off you, so ... Vir's hung up in meetings with the Alliance and I said I was coming down anyway, and he asked if I'd bring you this."
"I don't suppose there is brivari in here," Londo said, rummaging in the bag.
"I don't suppose people who just had a heart attack are supposed to drink, in general, and even if you were, I wouldn't be the one bringing it to you." Michael pulled the chair over, swung it around, and sat on it backwards, arms folded over the back. "You look better than the last time I saw you."
"Unless that is meant to be an insulting statement on my typical condition, I expect I was half dead the last time you saw me." Londo turned a look on Michael. "You were here when I was - here?"
"You seem surprised by that."
"I do not know what I am feeling." Londo pushed the bag back against the wall, and pivoted a little, leaning against his pillows, to turn his full attention on Michael. He did look tired, Michael thought, tired and ill and subdued in a way that was odd to see on him. After a moment's pause, Londo went on, "I did not know I still had many friends ... on Babylon 5. It is - good to see that I may have been wrong."
"Well, let's not overstate the case here. It was a slow night." Michael grinned at him. "Also, the way you're going, you aren't going to be able to come within yelling distance of the medlab without everyone closing and locking the place to keep you out. So you win some and lose some."
"I am bored! There is nothing to do here except rest - pah! - and be stabbed with tiny needles." He lowered a hand from gesturing to punctuate his sentence and looked sharply at Michael. "You must have a lot of work to get back to."
"Oh, loads," Michael said easily. "Which is why I'm dodging it by hiding out here."
"Ah. In that case, I am doing you a favor."
It was good to see the smug, charming asshole up and around, even to this extent. Bouncing back to being the usual thorn in everyone's side. An integral part of life on the station. An offered loan in a crunch, that he had never asked to be paid back. A little company in the casino on slow nights. Whatever ups and downs they'd all had with him, it was unthinkable to imagine the place without him.
"Yeah," Michael said. "You are."
4. Lochley and Sheridan
Elizabeth was, in truth, not sure how or even whether a visit to the ailing Centauri ambassador fit into her duties. She didn't know him, had only talked to him very briefly a couple of times. He wasn't under her direct purview except to the extent that he lived on the station.
But it seemed as if ignoring the situation might be a politically bad move. And - alien or not (and she still didn't know how much they thought or felt as humans did), he was ill, and a long way from home. A visit from the station commander was a gesture of goodwill that might be appreciated at a time like that. She would not like to be ill and alone, surrounded by aliens, herself. So she managed to squeeze a little time between two meetings to drop by the medlab.
"Ma'am," Dr. Franklin said formally, nodding to her as she stepped into the medlab. She acknowledged him with a polite nod. It was still strange to have a civilian command; she was struggling to know exactly how to relate to having people in her direct chain of command who did not salute, who took her orders but could quit anytime they liked.
"Hello, Doctor. I'm here to see the Centauri ambassador."
Franklin went a little more formal yet. "If this is business, his aide Vir is handling all his work affairs while he's in Medlab. And I'm going to enforce that."
"No, no." She smiled. This was coming across all wrong; she didn't know why she was so often wrong-footed with these people. "It's a goodwill visit. I just wanted to let him know that the Babylon 5 command regrets his situation, and he has our sympathies. I'd like the Centauri to know that we'll do whatever we can to help. It'll only take a minute."
Franklin raised his eyebrows. "Well, in that case .... he's in one of the private infirmary rooms over there. But you cut it close. We're releasing him later today."
Elizabeth suddenly regretted having taken so long to make her decision. "Thank you. I won't be too long."
She went in the indicated direction. There were voices even before she got there, and she found that rather than languishing alone in a lonely medlab room, Ambassador Mollari had a guest already: the president of the Alliance.
Sheridan was sitting in the chair beside the bed with one boot up on the foot of the bed, knee cocked up and one elbow resting on it. As always, she found that she was struck by Sheridan's incongruous boyishness, the last thing she would ever have expected from a man with his checkered reputation and long career with Earthforce.
The ambassador was sitting on the edge of the bed, a robe over his infirmary scrubs. He looked unwell, pale even for a Centauri, but not about to fall over. He had a cup of something steaming and unnervingly blue in one hand.
"And then she said, 'Why, that's not my husband, that's --" Sheridan looked around, and his grin at whatever off-color joke he was telling slipped before steadying into something less informal and more of what she was coming to think of his President On Duty expression. "Oh, hello, Captain. How are things up on the command deck?"
"Doing fine, very quiet, Mr. President. Ambassador Mollari." She was on slightly firmer footing here, and she offered a smile to the ambassador, who gestured to her in a friendly sort of way with his drink. "It's good to see you feeling better, Ambassador. I heard about what happened, and I wanted to extend our sympathies and good wishes for your recovery, on behalf of the Babylon 5 command crew."
"In that case, I am very pleased to receive them." She had heard that the Centauri ambassador was a bit of a charmer, and she could see why; even in a bathrobe, tired and wan, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, he had a gracious flair to him, a kind of energy that animated him. "And your timing is excellent. Cap-- excuse me, President Sheridan was just telling a joke. A human joke, you will find it very funny."
"Uh, I don't think she wants to hear the joke, Londo," Sheridan said hastily.
"I don't want to interrupt," Elizabeth said.
"You're not," Sheridan said. "Pull up a chair, well, first find a chair, then pull it up, and stay a while."
"And you can tell her the rest of the joke," Mollari said. "It starts with three young women walking into a drinking establishment. One is almost entirely naked, yes? So then --"
"She doesn't need to hear the joke, Londo," Sheridan said between his teeth.
Elizabeth found herself wrestling with an urge to smile. "I'm career military, I don't think there's a lot that will shock me. But I'm afraid I can't stay. I have a meeting in a few minutes. I just wanted to let you and your people know, Ambassador, that Babylon 5 regrets that this happened to you here, and we will help in any way we can."
"You truly do not want to hear the joke? Three young women walk into a --"
"Leave while you still can," Sheridan said out of the corner of his mouth.
Her smile broke free, she couldn't help it. "That sounds wise. I'll just ... let you get back to it, then. Good day, Ambassador, President."
She nodded to both of them and slipped out briskly. As she left the medlab, she heard laughter behind her (presumably the joke had run its course) and she found that she wished she had been able to stay.
+1. G'Kar
"Enter," said the all too familiar voice, a little strained and irritable, and the door opened. G'Kar stepped inside, and found himself surrounded by the unfamiliar and undesirable lushness of Centauri opulence.
I have never been in your quarters before, Mollari had said, not all that long ago. As for G'Kar, it was not technically true that he had never been in the Centauri ambassadorial quarters, but he didn't really remember it; it was all part of a Dust-fueled haze.
But that was -- before.
A lot of things were different now.
Mollari was on the couch, wrapped in a robe with silken shirt sleeves showing at the cuffs. He had been sprawled back on a pile of pillows with a rumpled blanket next to him. Now he sat up quickly with the air of someone pulling himself together who had been a lot more relaxed a minute ago.
"I wasn't expecting --" Mollari began. He hesitated, and then he just watched G'Kar looking around. After a moment he said, "Do you want a drink? You're welcome to it, if you can find anything. Vir has apparently poured everything with alcohol in it down the sink, for reasons known only to him, and I haven't replenished my supply yet."
"Is that a giant portrait of yourself on the wall?"
"I am going to have it taken down," Mollari said between his teeth. "I would have done it already, but the resale value appears to be poor."
G'Kar leaned a hip against the counter. There was something that was .... there was no other word for it ... fun about catching Mollari off balance, but not in a painful way, not in a way that hurt either of them. And still he couldn't help hearing the echo of those broken words (I'm sorry, G'Kar) and seeing Mollari, in his mind's eye, flopping like a child's doll under the jolts of electric current from the medical machines. Mollari remained pale and drawn, relatively quiet for him, and the fact that he was sitting up on the edge of the couch, but hadn't actually gotten up, suggested that he was still badly drained. But compared to that night ...
"You look well," G'Kar observed.
"People keep saying that to me, by which I have come to assume that they mean I am clearly on death's doorstep and about to keel over at any moment." Mollari flung out a hand along the back of the couch. "Take a seat or something. Having you standing over me is unnerving."
"Then I will continue to do so."
Being in Mollari's quarters was making him think about things he generally tried not to think about, even in the peace of his newfound stillness of mind. Not just the feel of Centauri flesh and bone giving way beneath his fists. But also, memories that were not his own. The blood of a friend on his hands, who was never his friend or a person he could have been friends with. Beautiful Centauri women, who he would not normally have considered beautiful. A blue cloud-laced sky above green trees, so very different from the Narn homeworld. Nothing coherent, just flashes, glimpses of another life.
Jerking awake in his quarters, several nights ago, where he had fallen asleep writing at his desk; the breathless feeling of pressure in his chest, and an urgent sense like nothing he had ever experienced before, that he had to be in the medlab, now.
I'm sorry, G'Kar.
"Does it ever strike you as odd," G'Kar said, "that we, Narns and Centauri - and not just us, most of the other younger races of the galaxy, the oxygen-breathers, are biologically compatible to the extent that we are? Minbari rather famously cannot drink alcohol, but both of our species can, as well as humans, even if our tolerances and tastes are a bit different. And there aren't a lot of foods that one race can eat and the rest do not have at least some ability to tolerate."
Mollari stared at him when he stopped speaking. After a moment he said, "I never really thought about it."
"But it is interesting, is it not? All that compatibility, when our races evolved separately on different worlds. Humans and Centauri look so much alike that one might almost think they are related. And we are all adapted to similar mixes of atmospheric gases, similar gravities, similar temperatures. It means we can eat together without poisoning each other; live on the same worlds, on the same stations and ships, without one race having to suffer for the others' comfort. The light that is most pleasing for you Centauri and humans is brighter than is really comfortable for the Narn, but it doesn't hurt us, it just takes some adjustment."
Mollari was still looking at him as if he'd grown a second head. Yes, knocking him on his back foot was satisfying. But he could surprise, too. "Lights, down a little, bring up the red," he said, and G'Kar was startled - and unexpectedly pleased.
"That was not a request, by the way," he said as the lighting settled into something much more like the level of an ordinary Narn afternoon.
"No, but it's not as if having the lights dimmed a bit is going to hurt me," Mollari pointed out.
G'Kar left his post at the counter and sat on the end of the couch. As it dipped under him, Mollari turned to track him. He didn't look afraid or upset, merely puzzled.
Up close, and under more comfortable lighting, it was more visible that he was not well. Better than in the medbay, yes -- but not well. It had been a little difficult at first for G'Kar to learn to read the signs of ill health, stress, and weariness on the faces of non-Narns -- their skin reactions were so different -- but he was better at it now. The deepening of the lines on Mollari's face, the blue bruise-like smudges under his eyes, the way his mouth pulled down a little at the corners. And the slight trembling in his hands, even now. It was only to be expected, G'Kar knew; Mollari's body had been through an ordeal.
"Do I want to know what I did to deserve the biology lecture?" Mollari asked.
And for a long time, G'Kar would not have wanted to see those signs and know what they meant. He would not have wanted to see their shared -- well, humanity was what the humans would say. There was no word in any of the Narn or Centauri languages, as far as he knew, that meant anything like To recognize your mutual personhood in the face of another species.
Their shared humanity, then.
"You Centauri have gods," G'Kar said.
"I would say this conversation has gone off the rails, but that would assume it was ever on them in the first place."
"We don't, really, in the same way. But the Centauri believe in gods, and the humans as well. The Minbari believe in the sentience of the entire universe. All of which supposes that things are made for a reason, so these things that unite us are not coincidences, they are written into the fabric of the universe. We Narns do not have those beliefs, or if we did, we lost them long ago in your conquest of our world." He saw a flicker of pain on Mollari's face, found it surprisingly unwelcome. He went on, "So maybe that is why we Narns missed so much for so long, and perhaps that was one of the reasons for our great suffering. Not that we deserved it, I don't mean that. But we were simply blind to the truth of the universe."
"Are you drunk? That would explain a lot." Still no fear. Mollari was not afraid of him. He really never had been, even when he should have been.
Arrogant, cruel, callous Centauri. Fragile, by Narn standards, but that did not stop them from being dangerous. Once he would have said they had no hearts, but that was another thing that all of the sentient younger races of the galaxy had in common. Not just hearts to pump their blood, or whatever they had that passed for blood. Hearts to break.
G'Kar took off one of his gloves -- Mollari looked even more startled at that -- and put out a hand, carefully. Mollari still stared at him as G'Kar laid his hand over the left side of Mollari's chest, on top of the robe.
It was different, to feel a double heartbeat. He had never felt it before.
He had watched it stop, and knew what that meant now.
What was the word, did the humans have a word, for watching your enemy bleed and finding out that the sight made you bleed, too?
Whatever it was, Mollari had found it out in Cartagia's dungeons; he'd even said so later, more or less. G'Kar hadn't really understood what he was talking about, at the time. Now he did.
"Do they know what caused this?" he asked. Still feeling the double beat under his palm, the rise and fall of Mollari's chest as he breathed. Centauri breathed at about the same cadence as the Narn, it turned out. Another similarity.
Mollari cleared his throat, still watching G'Kar as if he'd never seen him before. "No, I ... Stress was what Dr. Franklin said. Constriction of the arteries. Stress, diet, the usual complaints. It ... is not that likely to happen again, if that is what you are asking."
"It was." He took his hand away. "That is good, then."
He was glad.
"Provided that the station doesn't destroy my health in some other way soon, as it probably will." Mollari touched his own chest briefly, pulled the robe a little tighter. He met G'Kar's eyes. "Won't you stay for a drink, then? I regret the lack of alcohol, at least that I've been able to find, but there is fruit juice, which Vir deems fit for me to have. Although," he added, "there is definitely a chance that, with the universe's sense of humor being what it is, I will have found the one thing that is harmless to Centauri but poisonous to Narns."
It wasn't the biggest risk G'Kar had ever taken.
"Provided that you agree to my declaring a blood oath of revenge if it does poison me."
Mollari snorted a laugh. "Oh, why not. Great Maker, it's probably a suitably ironic way for me to die."
"In that case, don't bother yourself to get up; if you tell me where it is, I shall even pour."
Notes:
1. I struggled a bit with Sheridan's section, because his POV doesn't really add anything that Delenn's or Garibaldi's doesn't. Then I realized that part worked much better as outside POV from Lochley.
2. The other one I had trouble with was G'Kar, and how he would relate to Londo in the immediate aftermath of the episode. The breakthrough there was realizing that the obvious answer was "In the absolute weirdest way possible."
Four Medlab Visits (and one visitor who waited until after) (6048 words) by Sholio
Chapters: 5/5
Fandom: Babylon 5 (TV 1993)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Delenn & Londo Mollari, Vir Cotto & Londo Mollari, Michael Garibaldi & Londo Mollari, G'Kar & Londo Mollari
Characters: Londo Mollari, Vir Cotto, Stephen Franklin, Delenn (Babylon 5), G'Kar (Babylon 5), Michael Garibaldi, John Sheridan, Elizabeth Lochley
Additional Tags: Episode: s05e02 The Very Long Night of Londo Mollari, Missing Scene, Friendship, Bonding
Summary: Tag/missing scenes for "The Very Long Night of Londo Mollari." What it says on the tin.
Or read it here!
1. Delenn
Delenn put her sorrow away, put her heart away, after bidding farewell to Lennier at the docks. There was one other she needed to see before she started her day's tasks, one who was still with them.
The medlab was quiet, and largely deserted. Delenn smiled and bowed briefly to the doctor who was at the duty station, one of the newer personnel that she did not know by name. "Hello. I am here to see Ambassador Mollari, if he is receiving visitors."
The human woman smiled back. "Yes, he's resting, I think. His Centauri friend just left. But you're welcome to go see if he's awake."
Delenn dipped her head in thanks and went through the medlab to where she could see the lights indicating an occupant. The small room was accessible through an open doorway, and she could see Londo in the bed, propped up and, as the doctor had said, resting. It was hard to tell if he was actually asleep or not; his eyes were closed, and one hand was curled lightly on a decorated scroll case in his lap, in the Centauri court style.
He looked much better than the last time that she had seen him, although he was still pale and drawn - and still, in a way that was not quite so absolute, so final as how she had seen him last night, but incongruous nevertheless. It was as John had observed: seeing him bereft of that energy that animated him was a strange thing indeed.
Delenn cleared her throat softly, prepared to turn and leave if he didn't respond. But he opened his eyes, blinked, and abruptly raised his head.
"Delenn!" The look on his face was one she wasn't sure she had seen from him before: it was surprised, soft, open, hopeful even, though it changed quickly to something more familiar - welcoming, pleased, but a little guarded in the way he always was. He waved a hand with the courtly grace of his typical official manner, gesturing her into his infirmary room as if it was the ambassadorial quarters. "Come in, come in. You will excuse me if I don't get up. Or offer refreshments. Well, there is this." He touched a bedside table, swung out of the way, with a largely untouched meal tray. "You may have any part of this that you wish. Please, do me a great favor and take it off my hands."
Delenn smiled. There was a chair near the bed, and she sat, swinging her skirts into place. "I do not need refreshments; I have already eaten. I came to see you. How are you?"
Again a quick flicker of that unaccustomed softness. He really was different these days, she thought. "Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, as you can see. I am - what is it the humans say? Fit as a fiddle. Whatever that is. Or I will be, as soon as the doctor sees fit to release me from this cushioned jail cell."
But he was very tired, she could see it by the smudges of exhaustion and illness beneath his eyes, the bloodless pallor. He truly had almost died; she and John had received the report from Dr. Franklin in a message sent to both their quarters last night, after the worst was over.
"Do they know when you'll be released?" she asked.
Another brief wave of a hand she was not used to seeing without its rings and jewels, just the bare fingers now, and the loose sleeve of an invalid's robe. "A day or two, no more. You know us Centauri, we are a resilient people."
"I cannot contradict you about that. From what I have heard, you fought a hard battle last night, and won."
Londo grimaced, and for the first time she thought she saw the shadow of awareness of just how close he had come to the door that opened one way only. "And I hope I will not have to again anytime soon." He paused, and she could see him swing on a moment of indecision, then pivot into determination. "I ... do not know if this is just a dream, I had a lot of them while I lay indisposed, but I - I remember hearing your voice."
"Oh yes, I was here." She smiled at him, appreciating that soft openness that came and went, that was so strange on him - but welcome, she decided; she liked it. "I sat with you for a while, and spoke to you a little. I'm glad to know you could hear me."
Guardedness once more chased the softness from his features, but didn't quite hide the warmth it left behind. "I would have thought you would react to the news of my imminent demise with a celebration. 'Oh, Mollari is dead, one less thorn in my side', yes?"
"I am as surprised as you are that this is not at all the case. And to that end, I will leave you to enjoy the rest you were plainly in need of when I arrived." She got up, but paused. The Centauri were a people who touched each other a lot. At least, he was. So she reached out, brushed her hand down his sleeve, let it rest for a moment on top of his. "I am glad you are still with us, Londo," she said, and as a surprised look of pleasure washed over his face, she withdrew her hand swiftly, turned, and left with a much lighter step than she had come.
2. Vir
"Londo, I brought the --" Vir halted abruptly and dropped his voice, acutely conscious of the extra bulk under his jacket, the bottle resting against his ribs. "Things. That you asked for."
"Get in here," Londo hissed at him from the bed, waving him vigorously forward. "Stop looking so guilty, a person could see it from space. Just give me the --"
"Are you smuggling food into Medlab, Vir?"
Dr. Franklin had come up behind him. Vir jumped, felt the bottle slip from under his jacket, and managed to catch it by the top.
But Franklin was faster, slipping a hand under it and deftly swiping it away. "You're smuggling alcohol into Medlab? Oh, Vir."
"He told me to," Vir protested, while Londo seemed to be trying to decide whether to settle on offended dignity or offended innocence, and doing neither very well. "I didn't want to. But he can be very ... persuasive." And it was also possible that Vir hadn't tried quite as hard as he might have to sneak the contraband through the medlab successfully.
"Let me see what you've got there." As Vir dutifully handed the items over, Franklin sorted rapidly through them. "Not that. Definitely not that. Okay, this he can have. And this one. Absolutely no alcohol. Londo," he said, rounding on his patient, who broke off mouthing complaints at Vir and went immediately into wide-eyed innocence. "Do you want to end up right back on the operating table with a double coronary? Did you enjoy the entire experience enough that you're eager to repeat it?"
"You told me you sent for medical equipment from Homeworld," Londo said.
"An artificial heart, yes. I can assure you that you'd enjoy the process of implantation and the three-month recovery period even less than what you're currently experiencing." He stopped, took a breath, and set the bottle of brivari on the infirmary room's window ledge (Vir noticed Londo following it with his eyes) so that he had a hand free to run it down his face. After that, he went on, "Okay, look. Once you're out of Medlab, I can't make you do anything. You're a full grown adult, you're not under my jurisdiction like the crew, and if you want to ignore my advice, then I can't do much about it. But while you're here, you'll be eating a heart-healthy diet, and --" He snatched the brivari bottle off the window ledge. "--absolutely no alcohol! Don't tire him out," he added sternly to Vir, and left.
"That's property of the Centauri government, you know!" Londo called after him, leaning forward in the bed. "I want a receipt!"
Vir set the few items that had escaped Franklin's winnowing on the bedside tray. "I tried," he pointed out. "You saw me try."
"I saw you try and fail," Londo grumbled, settling back in the bed. "Sometimes I wonder, Vir, if it's a natural talent or if you practice being incomp--" He stopped so abruptly that Vir, who had been tuning him out through long practice and was already thinking ahead to the handful of diplomatic documents that were going to be necessary to process before Londo was back in his office, found his thoughts derailed. Londo said nothing for a heartbeat or two, then just as abruptly started speaking again. "No, it's my fault for asking you, I shouldn't have. Do not think anything of it." He began picking among the treats on the bedside tray. "Oh, you did find some of those little fruits from Beta I. They are hard to get at this time of year. Good work."
Vir stared at him. "Londo, are you feeling all right? Do you want me to get the doctor?"
"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Londo waved him to sit down. "What of the trade agreement with the Drazi on import duties for goods passing through the station en route to our worlds -- is there any movement on that?"
Back on more familiar ground, Vir went quickly down the last couple of days' diplomatic developments and the latest political news from Homeworld ... slightly redacted for anything that might cause Londo undue stress. Vir would worry about the consequences later.
"A quiet week," Londo murmured, leaning back against his pillows. He had been idly picking at the fruits, but it was obvious to Vir that whatever he claimed, his energy and appetite had barely begun to rebound.
"Yes, I think that's all we need to do for now." Vir rose from his chair. "In fact I'll just let you relax a little, I should really get the Drazi paperwork passed back to Homeworld. Can I bring you anything else? That I'm allowed to bring you," he added hastily.
"No, no, nothing. Not since I am not allowed brivari and it has been decided that I am to wither away on a diet of leafs." Londo raised his voice as he said this, aiming it at the medlab staff generally, who ignored him. Slumping back into his pillows with a sigh, he eyed Vir. "Actually, there is something that you can bring me, now that I think of it."
"Yes, Londo, whatever you want. What is it?"
"Some necessary viewing materials for research purposes while I am resting."
"You aren't supposed to be working," Vir said, slightly guiltily, because they more-or-less had been doing exactly that.
Londo waved a hand. "It is no matter. I will not overly exert myself. You will find the items I need in the chest of drawers beside my bed in my quarters. Top left drawer. Or top right. Either is good. Just bring a few of the most easily accessible ones, I am not picky."
Vir sputtered. "You want me to smuggle porn into the medlab?"
"What? It's not a food, so it can't be off limits according to the local constabulary."
"Londo, I think it very much can be off limits, because it can't be good for your hearts!"
"You want me to die of boredom in this place?" Londo asked, wilting dramatically on his pillows.
"I want you to not die at all!"
It came out more vehemently than Vir intended, and for a minute they simply stared at each other. Then Londo sighed and a smile flickered around the exhaustion-drawn corners of his mouth. He gazed at Vir with a look that Vir, who was used to reading Londo's moods, did not know how to read in the slightest.
"We all die someday, Vir," Londo said softly, at last. "But I'll try not to -- to do it in front of you again, yes?"
"They stuck a needle in your chest," Vir said. His eyes were stinging. He didn't want that, but he also didn't want those images in his head. "And they had to shock you to get your heart started again. A lot of times. Londo, it was awful."
Don't die, he heard himself say, the words echoing in his head.
"It was not exactly a fun stroll in the park for me either," Londo said. He was smiling again, in a way that was rare for him, soft and wistful. Reaching out, he patted Vir's hand lightly. "I mean it. I will try not to do it in front of you, or, or make you feel culpable, I suppose. You don't need to bring me anything, except more of those fruits, if you can get them."
"I will get them," Vir promised. He put a hand briefly over Londo's, slightly unnerved by how cold Londo's fingers were, and how weak. "You just rest now."
As he turned away to leave, Londo said with a brief resurgence of energy, "But do see if you can get my brivari back from that -- that thief!"
"Right away, Londo!" Vir said over his shoulder, and he veered his course to bring him past Dr. Franklin's duty station. Franklin was seated, engrossed in paperwork on the computer, but evidently saw him approach, because he held up the bottle as Vir got close. He kept a hand firmly locked around it when Vir reached for it, however.
"This goes straight out of Medlab or I'm not giving it back."
"Straight out," Vir promised, and Franklin relinquished it. "How long is he supposed to not drink?"
"Well, for the rest of his life, ideally, especially given the way he drinks, but I'll settle for a week or two." Franklin looked up, steadily gazing at Vir. "You care a lot about him, don't you? An awful lot."
"Yes," Vir said quietly. "I didn't think I was going to, you know," he added in a burst of slightly guilty honesty.
"I didn't think any of us thought we were going to," Franklin sighed. "Look, it's not your fault that he makes lousy choices. He's probably going right back to wrecking his health as soon as he's out of here, and that's not your fault, either."
"I know," Vir said. He smiled, then; he'd stopped feeling like he was going to cry, but the tremulous feeling hadn't left him completely. "Thank you for saving his life, Doctor. I know he probably won't think to say it, but he's grateful. And so am I."
Franklin's tired exasperation relaxed into a grin. "Don't let him run you ragged, at least not until he's out of here. We have medical staff waiting on him."
"It's okay. I like doing it. It's sort of like ..." Vir shrugged a little. "I couldn't help him the other night. I couldn't do anything except watch. But this I can do."
"I get that, I guess." Franklin pointed at the bottle. "But no more alcohol."
"No more alcohol," Vir promised.
3. Garibaldi
Michael strolled into the medlab with a bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey, Stephen, I'm here to see your most annoying patient."
Stephen looked around from an incomprehensible medical machine, on which he was reviewing incomprehensible medical things, and laughed. "I don't have to ask who that is. Yeah, knock yourself out." He pointed to the bag. "Unless there's anything medically contraindicated in there."
"No. It's his clothes, stuff like that. Vir asked me to bring it."
"Oh good, one step closer to galactic peace, at least the medlab corner of it."
"Letting him out, then?"
"No reason to keep him too much longer, if the latest bloodwork comes back clear of any further heart attack markers. All he needs now is rest, and he can do that in his quarters. In the meantime, though, he is still our problem, so don't tire him out too much."
Michael made an acknowledging gesture and sauntered over to the patient bays. No particular difficulty figuring out which one Londo was in, because he was arguing with a medtech.
"No, no, no. Draw the blood from the other arm, hmm? I am black and blue here. Black and blue! Do you know Centauri anatomy at all? Do you know we Centauri do not have major blood vessels at the surface of our arms? I don't think you do, because if you did, you would not have to stab, stab, stab to find one. Stab stab stab, poke poke poke - ow!"
Michael leaned against the doorframe and watched in amusement until the tech left with the samples. On her way out the door, she gave Michael an exasperated look that he returned with a grin and a slight shrug.
"Mr. Garibaldi," Londo said, seeing him, "let me give you a piece of sage advice, and that advice is, do not argue with a woman holding needles and putting them in you." He rubbed his arm through the thin sleeve of the infirmary gown. "Unless of course it is necessary."
"Like you just did?" Michael asked cheerfully. He slung the bag off his shoulder and dropped it on the shelf beside the bed. "Here, it's your get-out-of-jail clothes. Apparently they had to cut the other ones off you, so ... Vir's hung up in meetings with the Alliance and I said I was coming down anyway, and he asked if I'd bring you this."
"I don't suppose there is brivari in here," Londo said, rummaging in the bag.
"I don't suppose people who just had a heart attack are supposed to drink, in general, and even if you were, I wouldn't be the one bringing it to you." Michael pulled the chair over, swung it around, and sat on it backwards, arms folded over the back. "You look better than the last time I saw you."
"Unless that is meant to be an insulting statement on my typical condition, I expect I was half dead the last time you saw me." Londo turned a look on Michael. "You were here when I was - here?"
"You seem surprised by that."
"I do not know what I am feeling." Londo pushed the bag back against the wall, and pivoted a little, leaning against his pillows, to turn his full attention on Michael. He did look tired, Michael thought, tired and ill and subdued in a way that was odd to see on him. After a moment's pause, Londo went on, "I did not know I still had many friends ... on Babylon 5. It is - good to see that I may have been wrong."
"Well, let's not overstate the case here. It was a slow night." Michael grinned at him. "Also, the way you're going, you aren't going to be able to come within yelling distance of the medlab without everyone closing and locking the place to keep you out. So you win some and lose some."
"I am bored! There is nothing to do here except rest - pah! - and be stabbed with tiny needles." He lowered a hand from gesturing to punctuate his sentence and looked sharply at Michael. "You must have a lot of work to get back to."
"Oh, loads," Michael said easily. "Which is why I'm dodging it by hiding out here."
"Ah. In that case, I am doing you a favor."
It was good to see the smug, charming asshole up and around, even to this extent. Bouncing back to being the usual thorn in everyone's side. An integral part of life on the station. An offered loan in a crunch, that he had never asked to be paid back. A little company in the casino on slow nights. Whatever ups and downs they'd all had with him, it was unthinkable to imagine the place without him.
"Yeah," Michael said. "You are."
4. Lochley and Sheridan
Elizabeth was, in truth, not sure how or even whether a visit to the ailing Centauri ambassador fit into her duties. She didn't know him, had only talked to him very briefly a couple of times. He wasn't under her direct purview except to the extent that he lived on the station.
But it seemed as if ignoring the situation might be a politically bad move. And - alien or not (and she still didn't know how much they thought or felt as humans did), he was ill, and a long way from home. A visit from the station commander was a gesture of goodwill that might be appreciated at a time like that. She would not like to be ill and alone, surrounded by aliens, herself. So she managed to squeeze a little time between two meetings to drop by the medlab.
"Ma'am," Dr. Franklin said formally, nodding to her as she stepped into the medlab. She acknowledged him with a polite nod. It was still strange to have a civilian command; she was struggling to know exactly how to relate to having people in her direct chain of command who did not salute, who took her orders but could quit anytime they liked.
"Hello, Doctor. I'm here to see the Centauri ambassador."
Franklin went a little more formal yet. "If this is business, his aide Vir is handling all his work affairs while he's in Medlab. And I'm going to enforce that."
"No, no." She smiled. This was coming across all wrong; she didn't know why she was so often wrong-footed with these people. "It's a goodwill visit. I just wanted to let him know that the Babylon 5 command regrets his situation, and he has our sympathies. I'd like the Centauri to know that we'll do whatever we can to help. It'll only take a minute."
Franklin raised his eyebrows. "Well, in that case .... he's in one of the private infirmary rooms over there. But you cut it close. We're releasing him later today."
Elizabeth suddenly regretted having taken so long to make her decision. "Thank you. I won't be too long."
She went in the indicated direction. There were voices even before she got there, and she found that rather than languishing alone in a lonely medlab room, Ambassador Mollari had a guest already: the president of the Alliance.
Sheridan was sitting in the chair beside the bed with one boot up on the foot of the bed, knee cocked up and one elbow resting on it. As always, she found that she was struck by Sheridan's incongruous boyishness, the last thing she would ever have expected from a man with his checkered reputation and long career with Earthforce.
The ambassador was sitting on the edge of the bed, a robe over his infirmary scrubs. He looked unwell, pale even for a Centauri, but not about to fall over. He had a cup of something steaming and unnervingly blue in one hand.
"And then she said, 'Why, that's not my husband, that's --" Sheridan looked around, and his grin at whatever off-color joke he was telling slipped before steadying into something less informal and more of what she was coming to think of his President On Duty expression. "Oh, hello, Captain. How are things up on the command deck?"
"Doing fine, very quiet, Mr. President. Ambassador Mollari." She was on slightly firmer footing here, and she offered a smile to the ambassador, who gestured to her in a friendly sort of way with his drink. "It's good to see you feeling better, Ambassador. I heard about what happened, and I wanted to extend our sympathies and good wishes for your recovery, on behalf of the Babylon 5 command crew."
"In that case, I am very pleased to receive them." She had heard that the Centauri ambassador was a bit of a charmer, and she could see why; even in a bathrobe, tired and wan, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, he had a gracious flair to him, a kind of energy that animated him. "And your timing is excellent. Cap-- excuse me, President Sheridan was just telling a joke. A human joke, you will find it very funny."
"Uh, I don't think she wants to hear the joke, Londo," Sheridan said hastily.
"I don't want to interrupt," Elizabeth said.
"You're not," Sheridan said. "Pull up a chair, well, first find a chair, then pull it up, and stay a while."
"And you can tell her the rest of the joke," Mollari said. "It starts with three young women walking into a drinking establishment. One is almost entirely naked, yes? So then --"
"She doesn't need to hear the joke, Londo," Sheridan said between his teeth.
Elizabeth found herself wrestling with an urge to smile. "I'm career military, I don't think there's a lot that will shock me. But I'm afraid I can't stay. I have a meeting in a few minutes. I just wanted to let you and your people know, Ambassador, that Babylon 5 regrets that this happened to you here, and we will help in any way we can."
"You truly do not want to hear the joke? Three young women walk into a --"
"Leave while you still can," Sheridan said out of the corner of his mouth.
Her smile broke free, she couldn't help it. "That sounds wise. I'll just ... let you get back to it, then. Good day, Ambassador, President."
She nodded to both of them and slipped out briskly. As she left the medlab, she heard laughter behind her (presumably the joke had run its course) and she found that she wished she had been able to stay.
+1. G'Kar
"Enter," said the all too familiar voice, a little strained and irritable, and the door opened. G'Kar stepped inside, and found himself surrounded by the unfamiliar and undesirable lushness of Centauri opulence.
I have never been in your quarters before, Mollari had said, not all that long ago. As for G'Kar, it was not technically true that he had never been in the Centauri ambassadorial quarters, but he didn't really remember it; it was all part of a Dust-fueled haze.
But that was -- before.
A lot of things were different now.
Mollari was on the couch, wrapped in a robe with silken shirt sleeves showing at the cuffs. He had been sprawled back on a pile of pillows with a rumpled blanket next to him. Now he sat up quickly with the air of someone pulling himself together who had been a lot more relaxed a minute ago.
"I wasn't expecting --" Mollari began. He hesitated, and then he just watched G'Kar looking around. After a moment he said, "Do you want a drink? You're welcome to it, if you can find anything. Vir has apparently poured everything with alcohol in it down the sink, for reasons known only to him, and I haven't replenished my supply yet."
"Is that a giant portrait of yourself on the wall?"
"I am going to have it taken down," Mollari said between his teeth. "I would have done it already, but the resale value appears to be poor."
G'Kar leaned a hip against the counter. There was something that was .... there was no other word for it ... fun about catching Mollari off balance, but not in a painful way, not in a way that hurt either of them. And still he couldn't help hearing the echo of those broken words (I'm sorry, G'Kar) and seeing Mollari, in his mind's eye, flopping like a child's doll under the jolts of electric current from the medical machines. Mollari remained pale and drawn, relatively quiet for him, and the fact that he was sitting up on the edge of the couch, but hadn't actually gotten up, suggested that he was still badly drained. But compared to that night ...
"You look well," G'Kar observed.
"People keep saying that to me, by which I have come to assume that they mean I am clearly on death's doorstep and about to keel over at any moment." Mollari flung out a hand along the back of the couch. "Take a seat or something. Having you standing over me is unnerving."
"Then I will continue to do so."
Being in Mollari's quarters was making him think about things he generally tried not to think about, even in the peace of his newfound stillness of mind. Not just the feel of Centauri flesh and bone giving way beneath his fists. But also, memories that were not his own. The blood of a friend on his hands, who was never his friend or a person he could have been friends with. Beautiful Centauri women, who he would not normally have considered beautiful. A blue cloud-laced sky above green trees, so very different from the Narn homeworld. Nothing coherent, just flashes, glimpses of another life.
Jerking awake in his quarters, several nights ago, where he had fallen asleep writing at his desk; the breathless feeling of pressure in his chest, and an urgent sense like nothing he had ever experienced before, that he had to be in the medlab, now.
I'm sorry, G'Kar.
"Does it ever strike you as odd," G'Kar said, "that we, Narns and Centauri - and not just us, most of the other younger races of the galaxy, the oxygen-breathers, are biologically compatible to the extent that we are? Minbari rather famously cannot drink alcohol, but both of our species can, as well as humans, even if our tolerances and tastes are a bit different. And there aren't a lot of foods that one race can eat and the rest do not have at least some ability to tolerate."
Mollari stared at him when he stopped speaking. After a moment he said, "I never really thought about it."
"But it is interesting, is it not? All that compatibility, when our races evolved separately on different worlds. Humans and Centauri look so much alike that one might almost think they are related. And we are all adapted to similar mixes of atmospheric gases, similar gravities, similar temperatures. It means we can eat together without poisoning each other; live on the same worlds, on the same stations and ships, without one race having to suffer for the others' comfort. The light that is most pleasing for you Centauri and humans is brighter than is really comfortable for the Narn, but it doesn't hurt us, it just takes some adjustment."
Mollari was still looking at him as if he'd grown a second head. Yes, knocking him on his back foot was satisfying. But he could surprise, too. "Lights, down a little, bring up the red," he said, and G'Kar was startled - and unexpectedly pleased.
"That was not a request, by the way," he said as the lighting settled into something much more like the level of an ordinary Narn afternoon.
"No, but it's not as if having the lights dimmed a bit is going to hurt me," Mollari pointed out.
G'Kar left his post at the counter and sat on the end of the couch. As it dipped under him, Mollari turned to track him. He didn't look afraid or upset, merely puzzled.
Up close, and under more comfortable lighting, it was more visible that he was not well. Better than in the medbay, yes -- but not well. It had been a little difficult at first for G'Kar to learn to read the signs of ill health, stress, and weariness on the faces of non-Narns -- their skin reactions were so different -- but he was better at it now. The deepening of the lines on Mollari's face, the blue bruise-like smudges under his eyes, the way his mouth pulled down a little at the corners. And the slight trembling in his hands, even now. It was only to be expected, G'Kar knew; Mollari's body had been through an ordeal.
"Do I want to know what I did to deserve the biology lecture?" Mollari asked.
And for a long time, G'Kar would not have wanted to see those signs and know what they meant. He would not have wanted to see their shared -- well, humanity was what the humans would say. There was no word in any of the Narn or Centauri languages, as far as he knew, that meant anything like To recognize your mutual personhood in the face of another species.
Their shared humanity, then.
"You Centauri have gods," G'Kar said.
"I would say this conversation has gone off the rails, but that would assume it was ever on them in the first place."
"We don't, really, in the same way. But the Centauri believe in gods, and the humans as well. The Minbari believe in the sentience of the entire universe. All of which supposes that things are made for a reason, so these things that unite us are not coincidences, they are written into the fabric of the universe. We Narns do not have those beliefs, or if we did, we lost them long ago in your conquest of our world." He saw a flicker of pain on Mollari's face, found it surprisingly unwelcome. He went on, "So maybe that is why we Narns missed so much for so long, and perhaps that was one of the reasons for our great suffering. Not that we deserved it, I don't mean that. But we were simply blind to the truth of the universe."
"Are you drunk? That would explain a lot." Still no fear. Mollari was not afraid of him. He really never had been, even when he should have been.
Arrogant, cruel, callous Centauri. Fragile, by Narn standards, but that did not stop them from being dangerous. Once he would have said they had no hearts, but that was another thing that all of the sentient younger races of the galaxy had in common. Not just hearts to pump their blood, or whatever they had that passed for blood. Hearts to break.
G'Kar took off one of his gloves -- Mollari looked even more startled at that -- and put out a hand, carefully. Mollari still stared at him as G'Kar laid his hand over the left side of Mollari's chest, on top of the robe.
It was different, to feel a double heartbeat. He had never felt it before.
He had watched it stop, and knew what that meant now.
What was the word, did the humans have a word, for watching your enemy bleed and finding out that the sight made you bleed, too?
Whatever it was, Mollari had found it out in Cartagia's dungeons; he'd even said so later, more or less. G'Kar hadn't really understood what he was talking about, at the time. Now he did.
"Do they know what caused this?" he asked. Still feeling the double beat under his palm, the rise and fall of Mollari's chest as he breathed. Centauri breathed at about the same cadence as the Narn, it turned out. Another similarity.
Mollari cleared his throat, still watching G'Kar as if he'd never seen him before. "No, I ... Stress was what Dr. Franklin said. Constriction of the arteries. Stress, diet, the usual complaints. It ... is not that likely to happen again, if that is what you are asking."
"It was." He took his hand away. "That is good, then."
He was glad.
"Provided that the station doesn't destroy my health in some other way soon, as it probably will." Mollari touched his own chest briefly, pulled the robe a little tighter. He met G'Kar's eyes. "Won't you stay for a drink, then? I regret the lack of alcohol, at least that I've been able to find, but there is fruit juice, which Vir deems fit for me to have. Although," he added, "there is definitely a chance that, with the universe's sense of humor being what it is, I will have found the one thing that is harmless to Centauri but poisonous to Narns."
It wasn't the biggest risk G'Kar had ever taken.
"Provided that you agree to my declaring a blood oath of revenge if it does poison me."
Mollari snorted a laugh. "Oh, why not. Great Maker, it's probably a suitably ironic way for me to die."
"In that case, don't bother yourself to get up; if you tell me where it is, I shall even pour."
Notes:
1. I struggled a bit with Sheridan's section, because his POV doesn't really add anything that Delenn's or Garibaldi's doesn't. Then I realized that part worked much better as outside POV from Lochley.
2. The other one I had trouble with was G'Kar, and how he would relate to Londo in the immediate aftermath of the episode. The breakthrough there was realizing that the obvious answer was "In the absolute weirdest way possible."
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But this is gorgeous, you've captured them all so well. I love Delenn's measured kindness, and Vir not very sneakily smuggling alcohol into the hospital and getting caught, and dirty jokes with Sheridan, wonderful! And the final scene with G'kar - as you say, set weirdness levels to maximum. I love G'kar discoursing on the similarities between alien species, Londo picking up the clue about adjusting the lights, and G'kar deciding what he needs to do is actually feel Londo's hearts beating - I love all of that so much!
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I was hoping!
(It's wonderful.)
"I would say this conversation has gone off the rails, but that would assume it was ever on them in the first place."
THEM.
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