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B5 fic: In Flight Movie
In Flight Movie (gen, "A Tragedy of Telepaths" tag, Londo & G'Kar)
Missing scene for 5x10 "A Tragedy of Telepaths," after Na'Toth leaves the ship. Getting back to normal, whatever normal is for them.
Centauri Prime did not bother to waste its luxury cruisers on the regular Babylon 5 run, and so the ship they were on for the three-day journey had few amenities. There were a handful of private sleeper compartments, all of which had already been taken when they made their last-minute booking. That left open seat compartments where the sleeping options involved folding down the seats, standing in line for the few available sonic showers, and generally being uncomfortable. There was a small lounge with an action adventure playing continually, new installments of a popular "swords and spaceships" serial from Homeworld. There was not much else to do.
After the departure of Na'Toth, it gradually dawned on Londo that G'Kar was, to some extent, avoiding him. Not in a dramatic way - there really wasn't anywhere on the small ship to go. But after a month of being in nearly constant contact with his erstwhile bodyguard, he found himself noticing the lack of G'Kar a lot more than he would have expected to.
His triumph over their rescue of Na'Toth had faded into the usual nightmares, which made sleep both elusive and unsatisfying, dimming the triumph of victory.
Finally Londo tracked down G'Kar in the small dining area. There were only a few tables, and usually a line, but G'Kar seemed to have managed to stake out a table simply by being himself - there were no other non-Centauri on the ship, and definitely no other Narns. Also, it was the off hours; the shuttle was still observing Centauri standard time (synced to the capital), so there was no one around to serve. Nevertheless, most of the tables were taken by insomniacs or travelers who were just as uncomfortable as Londo in the not very sleep-compatible seats, sipping hot drinks and picking at food from the vending machines. G'Kar had a cup of something or other in front of him, and a plate of food he was ignoring.
Londo tried to make eye contact, failed, and got himself a cold roll from a machine, a cup of hot jala from another machine, and made his way awkwardly over to G'Kar's table.
"Good night. Morning." He sat, since G'Kar hadn't shown any signs of chasing him off. He knew what G'Kar looked like in full hostile mode, and this wasn't that. It was more like a kind of quiet reticence, which he found even more difficult to deal with. A sulking or angry G'Kar could be pushed at. This was different.
"Good morning," G'Kar said, with the wary and dangerous calm that meant he could break in any direction. Wonderful.
"No one has tried to kill me yet. I just thought you'd want to know that, as my bodyguard."
"I do know. I have been keeping an eye on you."
"From afar. What if I am in need of your services immediately?"
"I can move very fast when I want to."
That was true, at least.
Londo thought of that moment in the hallway. G'Kar shouting at him to run. The fact that he hadn't -- or rather, he'd run towards him, not away, to safety. There was no reason to do what he had done. G'Kar had the situation in hand, and anyway, it was highly unlikely that G'Kar could get into some kind of physical trouble he couldn't handle that Londo would actually be useful at getting him out of. But still, that had been Londo's first reaction.
Now it felt as if they were a thousand miles apart. Perhaps G'Kar felt the same, because he picked up his cup of untouched jala as if looking for something to do with his hands. It had apparently cooled to room temperature by its slight gelatinous gleam.
"You're supposed to drink it hot," Londo said, rather inanely.
G'Kar said nothing, swirling the jala in its cup. Then he said, almost casually, "Do you know how my father died, Mollari?"
"No," Londo said. The jala he had just sipped seemed to stick in his throat.
He did know. At least some of it. He had watched the ISN broadcast.
"My family served in a Centauri household -- I suppose you did not know that either? On a particularly sultry summer day, my father spilled a cup of hot jala on the mistress of the house." G'Kar spoke slowly, hypnotically. He really did have a gift for storytelling; the pacing was perfect and it was impossible to look away. "As a sort of poetic justice, I suppose, my father was hung up by his hands from a jalwah tree in the backyard -- you know, the source of the drink. It took him three days to die."
Londo swallowed. "I would think .... that would put a person off jala for life."
G'Kar gave a sort of sharp, strange laugh. He pushed the drink away. "It may have."
Londo found that, at the moment, he didn't have much of a taste for it either. He pushed away his own cup as well.
"I'm not going to say I didn't have anything to do with that." The words unstuck in his throat suddenly. "I mean, I didn't, but I know that's not exactly something that I -- that I can say to you right now, when you must see those people in every line of my face. Especially after Na'Toth, which I ... which I did have something to do with, and we both know it. But we rescued her, and that must count for something, hmm?"
G'Kar, who had been toying with a napkin on the table beside the jala cup, crumpled it suddenly in a gloved fist. "She is out of the dungeon, yes. She will be trying to put herself back together for the rest of her life."
"I know!" Londo reached out his hands abruptly, put them over G'Kar's fist on the table. G'Kar's fingers were locked into a solid knot of tension, and when he looked up, he saw the red eyes fixed on him with an unreadable expression.
It hit him perhaps for the first time, consciously, that he wasn't afraid of G'Kar. Not in a mood like this. Not at all.
G'Kar, who had once beaten him nearly to death, invaded his mind, and left him with bruises and broken bones that had taken him months to recover from.
But that was a lifetime ago.
He gripped the gloved killer's hand in both of his and he was not afraid at all. Sorry, yes. For a lot of things. But that wasn't something he could say right now, either. He'd learned a lot about apologies lately, when to offer them, and when not to.
"I know," he said, gripping G'Kar's knotted-up hand in his. "But we did what we could. You couldn't have done anything else to help her, either." Also part of the problem, he realized. Though not all of it.
G'Kar huffed out a sound which was not even close to a laugh, a sort of sigh. His hand flexed under Londo's, but didn't pull away.
"You really have no sense of when to let things alone, do you?" G'Kar asked. It was questioning, not even angry, just curious.
"I do not. It's one of my charms, I am told."
"Whoever told you that was deeply, deeply wrong."
"I -- I am sorry," Londo said suddenly. Maybe he hadn't learned all that much about when apologies were appropriate, after all. "I know I didn't do anything, it doesn't change anything, there is nothing that I can do and it really doesn't make any difference, me saying this. But I am. For her. And you. But we -- we did do something good, didn't we?"
He was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to believe that it was worth it. That something in all of this was worth it.
G'Kar half-smiled, looked away briefly, and sighed. His hand twitched under Londo's, fingers still curled but more loosely now. "Yes. We did."
"Haven't you always wanted to rescue a maiden from a dungeon?"
This time the sigh was deeper. "Life is not like one of your Centauri action serials, Mollari."
"Ah! You admit you have watched them."
"Only because there is nothing else to do on this G'Quan-forsaken ship."
Londo laughed and squeezed his hand and released it. "I happen to know there is a couch in the corner of the entertainment lounge which is quite comfortable for sleeping, if one doesn't mind screaming and swordfights going on above one's head."
In truth, his duel with Urza had rather dimmed his enthusiasm for the typical sort of swordfight epics that tended to be displayed on flights like this one. But G'Kar was halfway smiling, not quite in his direction, but it was an improvement. So he supposed he could put up with the serial and all its associated memories, for that.
"I have slept through worse. A comfortable couch, you say."
"More so than any of the regular seats by far. I warn you, we may have to chase someone else off it."
"I am naturally talented at that."
They left their cups of jala behind. Londo grabbed his cold roll on the way out, and paused to get another for G'Kar from the vending machine. They would want snacks. It was still two days to Babylon 5.
Missing scene for 5x10 "A Tragedy of Telepaths," after Na'Toth leaves the ship. Getting back to normal, whatever normal is for them.
Centauri Prime did not bother to waste its luxury cruisers on the regular Babylon 5 run, and so the ship they were on for the three-day journey had few amenities. There were a handful of private sleeper compartments, all of which had already been taken when they made their last-minute booking. That left open seat compartments where the sleeping options involved folding down the seats, standing in line for the few available sonic showers, and generally being uncomfortable. There was a small lounge with an action adventure playing continually, new installments of a popular "swords and spaceships" serial from Homeworld. There was not much else to do.
After the departure of Na'Toth, it gradually dawned on Londo that G'Kar was, to some extent, avoiding him. Not in a dramatic way - there really wasn't anywhere on the small ship to go. But after a month of being in nearly constant contact with his erstwhile bodyguard, he found himself noticing the lack of G'Kar a lot more than he would have expected to.
His triumph over their rescue of Na'Toth had faded into the usual nightmares, which made sleep both elusive and unsatisfying, dimming the triumph of victory.
Finally Londo tracked down G'Kar in the small dining area. There were only a few tables, and usually a line, but G'Kar seemed to have managed to stake out a table simply by being himself - there were no other non-Centauri on the ship, and definitely no other Narns. Also, it was the off hours; the shuttle was still observing Centauri standard time (synced to the capital), so there was no one around to serve. Nevertheless, most of the tables were taken by insomniacs or travelers who were just as uncomfortable as Londo in the not very sleep-compatible seats, sipping hot drinks and picking at food from the vending machines. G'Kar had a cup of something or other in front of him, and a plate of food he was ignoring.
Londo tried to make eye contact, failed, and got himself a cold roll from a machine, a cup of hot jala from another machine, and made his way awkwardly over to G'Kar's table.
"Good night. Morning." He sat, since G'Kar hadn't shown any signs of chasing him off. He knew what G'Kar looked like in full hostile mode, and this wasn't that. It was more like a kind of quiet reticence, which he found even more difficult to deal with. A sulking or angry G'Kar could be pushed at. This was different.
"Good morning," G'Kar said, with the wary and dangerous calm that meant he could break in any direction. Wonderful.
"No one has tried to kill me yet. I just thought you'd want to know that, as my bodyguard."
"I do know. I have been keeping an eye on you."
"From afar. What if I am in need of your services immediately?"
"I can move very fast when I want to."
That was true, at least.
Londo thought of that moment in the hallway. G'Kar shouting at him to run. The fact that he hadn't -- or rather, he'd run towards him, not away, to safety. There was no reason to do what he had done. G'Kar had the situation in hand, and anyway, it was highly unlikely that G'Kar could get into some kind of physical trouble he couldn't handle that Londo would actually be useful at getting him out of. But still, that had been Londo's first reaction.
Now it felt as if they were a thousand miles apart. Perhaps G'Kar felt the same, because he picked up his cup of untouched jala as if looking for something to do with his hands. It had apparently cooled to room temperature by its slight gelatinous gleam.
"You're supposed to drink it hot," Londo said, rather inanely.
G'Kar said nothing, swirling the jala in its cup. Then he said, almost casually, "Do you know how my father died, Mollari?"
"No," Londo said. The jala he had just sipped seemed to stick in his throat.
He did know. At least some of it. He had watched the ISN broadcast.
"My family served in a Centauri household -- I suppose you did not know that either? On a particularly sultry summer day, my father spilled a cup of hot jala on the mistress of the house." G'Kar spoke slowly, hypnotically. He really did have a gift for storytelling; the pacing was perfect and it was impossible to look away. "As a sort of poetic justice, I suppose, my father was hung up by his hands from a jalwah tree in the backyard -- you know, the source of the drink. It took him three days to die."
Londo swallowed. "I would think .... that would put a person off jala for life."
G'Kar gave a sort of sharp, strange laugh. He pushed the drink away. "It may have."
Londo found that, at the moment, he didn't have much of a taste for it either. He pushed away his own cup as well.
"I'm not going to say I didn't have anything to do with that." The words unstuck in his throat suddenly. "I mean, I didn't, but I know that's not exactly something that I -- that I can say to you right now, when you must see those people in every line of my face. Especially after Na'Toth, which I ... which I did have something to do with, and we both know it. But we rescued her, and that must count for something, hmm?"
G'Kar, who had been toying with a napkin on the table beside the jala cup, crumpled it suddenly in a gloved fist. "She is out of the dungeon, yes. She will be trying to put herself back together for the rest of her life."
"I know!" Londo reached out his hands abruptly, put them over G'Kar's fist on the table. G'Kar's fingers were locked into a solid knot of tension, and when he looked up, he saw the red eyes fixed on him with an unreadable expression.
It hit him perhaps for the first time, consciously, that he wasn't afraid of G'Kar. Not in a mood like this. Not at all.
G'Kar, who had once beaten him nearly to death, invaded his mind, and left him with bruises and broken bones that had taken him months to recover from.
But that was a lifetime ago.
He gripped the gloved killer's hand in both of his and he was not afraid at all. Sorry, yes. For a lot of things. But that wasn't something he could say right now, either. He'd learned a lot about apologies lately, when to offer them, and when not to.
"I know," he said, gripping G'Kar's knotted-up hand in his. "But we did what we could. You couldn't have done anything else to help her, either." Also part of the problem, he realized. Though not all of it.
G'Kar huffed out a sound which was not even close to a laugh, a sort of sigh. His hand flexed under Londo's, but didn't pull away.
"You really have no sense of when to let things alone, do you?" G'Kar asked. It was questioning, not even angry, just curious.
"I do not. It's one of my charms, I am told."
"Whoever told you that was deeply, deeply wrong."
"I -- I am sorry," Londo said suddenly. Maybe he hadn't learned all that much about when apologies were appropriate, after all. "I know I didn't do anything, it doesn't change anything, there is nothing that I can do and it really doesn't make any difference, me saying this. But I am. For her. And you. But we -- we did do something good, didn't we?"
He was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to believe that it was worth it. That something in all of this was worth it.
G'Kar half-smiled, looked away briefly, and sighed. His hand twitched under Londo's, fingers still curled but more loosely now. "Yes. We did."
"Haven't you always wanted to rescue a maiden from a dungeon?"
This time the sigh was deeper. "Life is not like one of your Centauri action serials, Mollari."
"Ah! You admit you have watched them."
"Only because there is nothing else to do on this G'Quan-forsaken ship."
Londo laughed and squeezed his hand and released it. "I happen to know there is a couch in the corner of the entertainment lounge which is quite comfortable for sleeping, if one doesn't mind screaming and swordfights going on above one's head."
In truth, his duel with Urza had rather dimmed his enthusiasm for the typical sort of swordfight epics that tended to be displayed on flights like this one. But G'Kar was halfway smiling, not quite in his direction, but it was an improvement. So he supposed he could put up with the serial and all its associated memories, for that.
"I have slept through worse. A comfortable couch, you say."
"More so than any of the regular seats by far. I warn you, we may have to chase someone else off it."
"I am naturally talented at that."
They left their cups of jala behind. Londo grabbed his cold roll on the way out, and paused to get another for G'Kar from the vending machine. They would want snacks. It was still two days to Babylon 5.
no subject
(and thanks for crossposting fic to DW, lately I've been getting a lot of errors trying to get into AO3)
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It's useful to me, not overwhelming.
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Oh excellent, I'm glad to hear it! <3
Your comments have been a never-ending source of delight for me, by the way. Today's in particular. (They really do have trauma over almost everything! And they will walk right into it for each other's sake. I am not okay.)
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I'm glad to hear this, too!
(They really do have trauma over almost everything! And they will walk right into it for each other's sake. I am not okay.)
*hugs*
Meticulously plotted, breathtakingly acted, deeply consistent through all the exigencies of long-form television, THE VIBES.
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Every canon is unique in its own way, but it really is unlike anything else I can think of! The show in general, but especially them. I am so glad they've come to take up residence in my head, because I can already tell this will be one of my forever canons, not a passing infatuation. (I suppose the fact that I still remembered it and wanted to finish it from 30 years ago suggests that it would. It just took me an unprecedented while to get around to it.)
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Look, precision-tailored to your id or not, I still think it's wonderful that the show left that kind of impression even when incompletely seen.
(I couldn't remember if I had mentioned: it turns out that even though it makes a better story, "The Quality of Mercy" was not actually my introduction to Babylon 5. My father confirms that I would first have seen "Believers" and "Eyes," which were evidently not enough on their own to make me start watching the show with him, although the former would at least have instantly established its "not Star Trek" bona fides. It is true that I watched steadily from "The Quality of Mercy," however, so I can still blame something about the card-sharping tentadicks.)
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I do too! And having finally figured out where I stopped (i.e. mid Cartagia arc) I can see why even my distracted, early-college-age brain latched onto this with enough force that I knew I wanted to finish it someday.
It is true that I watched steadily from "The Quality of Mercy," however, so I can still blame something about the card-sharping tentadicks.
I can see how that would have done it. It was a compelling episode overall, even without the sex tentacles. (But especially with them.)