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She reached out across the bed, and her eyes stung with tears. Of course. He was not there. He had not been there since that first night she had returned from the hospital. He had loved her then. He loved her still, but their responsibilities hung over them both. There was a sadness in him as well, a dark hollow behind his eyes, as if he had sacrificed everything to survive, and now could never bring any of it back.

Delenn of Mir sighed, and as she had for the past so many nights, she fell asleep alone.

* * *

"I will.... be going then."

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the cries of mourning that echoed in Delenn's mind. Sorrowful thoughts, dark and anguished.... And some of them were directed at the man in front of her.

"That's.... probably for the best," he said finally, and she could hear the pain in his words. It was true. It was for the best. Politically, militarily, personally....

John had to remain here, on Proxima. The world was set to fly apart, torn between recent tensions, the deaths of President Clark and Mr. Welles, the constant threat of Shadow reprisal, the surge in anti–alien prejudice.... they needed someone here, someone special. Not just a symbol, a leader.

That had to be John. He was the only choice. He was the leader of the Alliance war fleet after all, and also the most obvious sign of human involvement in the alliance of races. No one else would do. Corwin was a soldier, not a leader - although one day he would be - Welles was dead, Dexter represented only his own province and his own people.... It had to be John.

"You'll be.... safer there," John continued, the words sounding painful and forced. "We're still catching some of the extremists, some of Clark's men.... people who blame you. There's also the possibility of a counterattack, of course."

All true, but none of these were the real reasons she needed to go to Kazomi 7 rather than remain here. The real reasons she couldn't give voice to.... not to him.

She didn't want to be near him. She didn't want to have to hold in her regret and guilty thoughts whenever she was around him. She didn't want to have to concentrate so hard not to say the words that would destroy him.

I killed our son.

She had tried telling herself a thousand times that was not true, and on some level she knew it. On that level she knew that others were to blame. If the Vorlons hadn't made her that fatal offer. If John hadn't been so badly hurt.... But if she hadn't accepted their proposals....

If, if, if.... so many ifs.... none of which resolved the main issue that their son was dead, and they both had to grieve for him, but neither of them had time. If she stayed here, sooner or later they would grieve, and then both of them would be destroyed.

"Then.... I will be leaving soon," she whispered.

He looked unhappy, not surprisingly. He also looked tired. He had told her what had happened to him, the dealings with the Alliance, the strangeness of the Dark Star ships, the argument with Sinoval. He had kept some things quiet, she knew, but she had not pressed him on them. Compared to what he had told her, any secrets he still kept would be inconsequential.

Our son is dead.

No! Reach out to him! Tell him you love him!

In truth she was unhappy here on Proxima, and she couldn't wait to leave. She was a leader and a leader of leaders. She wanted to make everything better, to heal the galaxy and everyone in it, to create a universe where everything would be so much simpler.

But here.... here nothing was simple. There were countless divisions between peoples who should be allies, divisions wrought from fear and hatred and mistrust. It fell to precious few people to try to undo those divisions, to end the war between the Narn and the Centauri, to unite humanity with the other races, to end the threat the Shadows posed....

It would be difficult. It would all be so difficult. She wanted to be a healer again, but she could not heal until everyone was ready to be healed. Someone had to bring everything together so that the galaxy could be healed. And if not her, then who?

Tell him you love him!

The voice would not be quiet, and she wanted to listen to it. She really did.... but she couldn't.

Our son is dead!

Delenn bowed her head, and turned. She began to walk away.

Tell him. You must.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she walked away.

Tell him!

She left the room. She did not look back.

* * *

Power was a nebulous thing, a concept many people spoke of, but few truly understood. The controlling, the mastery, the capturing of power.... It was said that the person who fully understood these things would have no need actually to carry out any of them.

The man who called himself Vejar was one of the few who did understand them. He knew that sometimes the greatest exercise of power comes not by using it, but by sitting back and merely watching.

He had not always understood that. Indeed, one of the reasons he had chosen to remain behind when the rest of his order had fled to their long–ordained place of sanctuary had been because he wanted to use his power to help. Not just to help his order, but to help any who needed it.

That had been over two years ago, and now he understood a little better than he had then.

He did possess power. Physical power. The capability to kill, to destroy, to tear down whole cities. If he but wanted to, he could destroy most of Kazomi 7 in less than a day. It was all a simple matter of making the right incantations, the rights glyphs and words, and it would be done.

But the best power is the sort that is never used. The strongest sword is the one never removed from the scabbard. Sometimes there are no masks....

And sometimes it is worth staking the lives of all who live on the decision of one person.

Vejar was human, although racial differences mattered little within his order. Sometimes he even forgot that he was human, but not today. Today was the day he knew at last that the right decision had been made.

Delenn of Mir had gone to Z'ha'dum, and there, as had been foreseen, she had made the decision that could change the future of the galaxy. She had been offered the chance to travel anywhere she liked. Home, to safety, to the arms of the one who loved her.

But she chose the path of pain and repentance and redemption. She gave up, however unknowingly, the unborn life growing within her, and in doing so, equally unknowingly, she had given birth to something greater.

An ideal had arisen within humanity. The witnesses to her sacrifice, to her nobility, to her remorse. It had begun with just two, two men who both had every reason to hate her, and it had spread. At the time she had died, her work was only just beginning.

Humanity had been saved. It was entirely possible that Delenn would never realise what she had done. It was also entirely possible that had she been given the chance to change her mind over that fateful decision, she would have done nothing differently.

The order was pleased. Master Elric was pleased, as was the One Above All. Neither would explain their reasons of course, their own hopes for humanity, but that hardly mattered. The order was pleased.

Save one member of it.

Vejar raised his hand and traced a pattern in the air. A silver mirror appeared from nowhere, and within it was an image of Delenn. Dignity and strength shone in her every movement, but Vejar could see the pain within. She was walking away from something.... no, from someone.

Vejar frowned. She was returning home, to Kazomi 7. There he would have to face her, and acknowledge his betrayal of her. How could he explain it to her? How could he explain the necessity of what she had done, of what she had lost?