Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)

And the fourth…. That would be the most important message of them all. A warning of a sort, but so much more than that. He would know what to do with it, and he was the one person she could trust to act on what she had learned.

She had needed time to do these things, time apart from John, time she did not want to lose. But they were necessary, and now they were done.

There was one other thing she had needed to do as well. That accomplished, she could begin to make herself ready.

His face on seeing her had been all the reward she could need.

The dress was white and gold, a mixture of human and Minbari design. She was not sure if its cut was flattering or ludicrous, but John certainly seemed to like it. She had begun its commission before the beginning of G'Kar's fateful summit on Babylon 4, and she had quite forgotten it until now.

He had said nothing, as if he had been entirely struck dumb. Then he had smiled, and stepped into her quarters. "You look beautiful."

He was wearing a uniform much like his old one. He had showered and shaved, and he looked just as he had for those first months, before his virus had become dangerous and after they had finally managed to acknowledge what they felt.

"How do you feel?" she asked, not wanting to take her eyes from him, fixing everything in her memory.

"I…. strange," he admitted. "But in a good way. Everything tingles. But…. look." He reached out his hand, and took hers. "Isn't that a miracle?"

"Yes," she swallowed. "A miracle."

"I don't believe it. I really don't believe it. I never knew the Vorlons could do that. Repair all the damage…. and the virus. I…." He shook his head, smiling in wonderment. "I just don't believe it."

"What will you do now?" she whispered.

"Oh…. stay here, I suppose. David's doing fine with the Babylon…. at least, from what I can remember he is. I'm inclined to let him keep it. Maybe take a higher position. If we're going to take the war to the Shadows, after all, we'll need all the soldiers we can get."

Yes. Soldiers. Not healers.

"You would be welcome. I know Taan Churok will appreciate your assistance."

"It won't be easy," he admitted. "But I really think we can do it now. Especially with the Vorlons to help us." He smiled. "This is a turning point, Delenn. Everything's going to be all right now."

"Yes," she whispered, reaching up a hand to touch his face. "Everything will be…. all right."

There was a comfortable silence as she stared into his eyes. All the innocence and compassion and love…. everything that had been there before was there again now. All the horror he had seen was gone from his gaze. It was filled only with love for her.

"John," she said. "I love you."

His smile widened. "I love you, Delenn, you know that. I always love you…. even if I forget to say it from time to time."

"I know. I always knew."

She leaned in for a kiss, and he received her happily. She thought she might be beginning to cry. "John. Will you…. stay here tonight?"

"Are you…? I mean…."

"John, I love you. Stay with me?"

He reached forward and kissed her again in reply. She did cry at last, but her tears were of joy, not sorrow. They would have this time together, and no one — not the Vorlons, not the Shadows, not Deathwalker or Sinoval or Bester — would be able to take this night from them.

She now had something to take with her to Z'ha'dum.

Warleader G'Sten evaluated the remnants of his fleet and bit back a profanity. He did not in fact have the energy for anger anyway. He felt nothing beyond a profound depression, and a realisation that chances he should have taken in the past had now slipped away from him.

He should have listened to G'Kar, but he had not, and now his men had paid the price.

The Kha'Ri would be furious of course. At the least, they would demand his head. Perhaps they would even ask for the heads of his captains.

He would resign. He would accept responsibility. It was all over; the galaxy was doomed now, and everything would be washed away in darkness and fire. He had seen those Shadows, and they were all but invincible. The entire might of the Narn fleet had been unable so much as to scratch them. It was over.

They could not win. No one could win.

He would resign before the Kha'Ri, and go to the estate his family had once owned before the Centauri had come. He would tend the tree his brother had died on, he would sit and look at the sunsets, and he would wait for the end.

It was over now. The war was over. Life was over.

He would simply wait for the end.

There were a number of skills any good secret agent needed, but foremost of all was the ability to know when to run, and when to stop running. Sooner or later everything fell apart, and when that happened the best thing to hope for was a good head start, and a better hiding place.

Talia was still running, although only in a metaphorical sense. She was sure she had managed to shake off the initial pursuit, but they would still be tracking her. She needed an immediate place of sanctuary, and after that a new base of operations. At least now she knew what was happening here, and she could take appropriate action. Maybe move out of 301 and up into Main Dome. She didn't have much more to do here after all.

She pressed herself as hard into the alcove as she could. It was heavily shadowed and there was enough rubbish and debris strewn around the street that she should remain inconspicuous. She could hear her pursuers coming this way. Normally it would be possible to alter their perceptions slightly so they would not notice her, but they had very advanced tech that seemed able to resist telepathic influences, so she simply remained very still.

There were three of them, all people she had seen with Trace.

"I'm telling you, she came this way," snarled one of them.

"Well, I'm telling you there's no one in sight. I mean, who'd come through a dump street like this, least of all a classy bit like her. She'd get that nice skirt of hers all messy."

There was a reply Talia really hadn't wanted to hear, and guttural chuckling.

"Yeah," said the first voice. "Well, maybe, with a mouth your size. Look, we go back without her, and Mr. Trace is going to have us nailed to the wall and used for target practice. She came this way."

"There's no one here. Listen, and think about this for a moment." The voices were coming closer. "Anyone who pisses off Mr. Trace ain't going to want to stick around in his den, is she? Now you saw what she was wearing. She ain't from the Pit, so she'll be running off to the tube stations and get out-sector. I'll bet she's halfway to Main Dome by now."

"She came this way," persisted the first voice.

"Hang on," said the third. "What if you're right, Roberts?" said the third thoughtfully.

"What of it?"

"Well, what's the quickest route from here to the tube station?"

"Left down that alley, across and then left at the Security building. If she's going there, she won't have come up this street."

"But," said the third. "What about that narrow walk we just passed? With a bit of effort you could get through that hole in the wire fencing, right? And then from there it's a couple of minutes to the tube, taking all the back roads where no one could spot her."

"Well, what do you know?" said the first in wonder. "It's looks like we're both right, Roberts. She did come this way. Come on, I think we're going to owe you a drink, Petrov."