Morden was, not surprisingly, the last to leave.
"I am surprised you did not object," Londo said, wearily. "You did not even say anything."
Morden shrugged. "You're the Emperor, after all. Everything you did was within your power. The treaty between us will be arranged soon. I think we should pass it as swiftly as possible, don't you? The sooner we sort it out, the sooner we can begin providing aid. And protection, of course. After all, someone is going to have to guard the homeworld with your fleet away.
"And as for Marrago, well.... it's a big galaxy, but not that big. We'll find him. Eventually.
"Well, at least that's all over now. We can begin preparing for the future."
Londo did not have the energy to laugh. "I do not believe we have much of a future. Not any more."
"Oh, you do. It just isn't the sort of future you might have imagined you were going to have."
With that, Morden left. Londo was alone.
Before the End.
Alone.... but not for ever.
Londo looked up and smiled wryly. "I know you're there, my friend," he whispered. "You can't hide from me."
The shadows parted and Lennier stepped out. Londo looked at him, and was relieved that he appeared unharmed. "I do not think I have been a very good bodyguard for you," he said softly. "A bodyguard would not have left you alone."
"You have been a fine bodyguard, Lennier. And a finer friend. I do not know what I would have done without you."
Lennier looked down. He had always seemed to have the weight of several worlds on his shoulders, but now.... the burden seemed even heavier.
"I must go."
"I know. I have sent away everyone who cared for me, Lennier. I cannot keep you behind."
"No, it is more than that. I am.... Shadow–tainted. They have given me one of their Keepers. Soon the Vorlons will find out, and if I am still here, then...."
"I know. I have always known. Just as I knew you would never be a threat to me or to this throne." Londo sighed. "There have been few who have served this Republic half so well as you have. I just wish there was a better gift I could give you as you leave us."
"You have given me all that is necessary. I was proud to be your friend."
Londo rose from his throne and took the few short, hesitant steps towards Lennier. He reached out his hands and Lennier took them both, grasping his wrists. For a moment they both stood there, and then Lennier pulled back.
"I must go." He made to leave.
"I will undo this," Londo called back. "I will drive the Vorlons and 'Ambassador' Morden from this world. When I do.... you can come back. I will take you to the red light district and get you drunk."
Lennier smiled sweetly and sadly. "That would be nice, but I do not think I will live to see it."
"No, you will, my friend."
Lennier smiled again, and then he was gone.
Londo sat back on the throne. Lennier was the last of them, the last of those who knew him as a man and not an Emperor. They were all gone now. So who was he?
What was he?
Alone.
After the End.
"No, not alone."
Londo looked up, unsure of how much time had passed. Long shadows covered the throne room. Everything was dark. The only patch of light in the whole room was where Lyndisty lay.
"Somehow I knew you would be here, Londo. You always were one for melodramatic gestures."
He groaned softly as he saw the woman enter the room. Her clothes were scorched and burned. There was a soot mark on her cheek and numerous scratches on her face, but still Timov looked every inch the Empress she refused to allow herself to be.
Timov stopped and looked down at the second body, the one covered with darkness. She sighed. "Ah, poor Mariel. She never did have the sense to know when to come in out of the rain."
"Timov, you should...."
"Oh, I'm fully aware of what you think I should do, Londo. I heard all about your little proclamations earlier. Sending everyone away like that.... Maybe the others will buy into the Imperial edicts rot and all that, but I know you too well. I've never obeyed a single order you gave me in all these years of marriage, and I won't be starting now. You can't get rid of me, Londo."
"You don't understand. You'll be in danger."
"Oh? Then I suppose today was a simple walk in the park, was it? I have always been in danger, Londo. I was raised knowing that would be the case, and I've never shirked from it yet. You cannot get rid of me."
"But Timov...."
"Stop it. I'm not listening. No.... you may be our Emperor, but you're also a man, and you can't begin the fight back if you drop dead from lack of sleep. Things may look better in the morning. Now come to bed, Londo dear."
In spite of himself, Londo smiled. "Yes, darling," he said, without a hint of sarcasm.
No, maybe he was not all alone after all.
Chapter 4
"So this is what victory feels like. All these years and yet.... what has our struggle brought us?"
"There is a saying among some peoples. Everyone gains exactly what they deserve. It would appear you have gained the victory which you most deserved."
"For all our sakes, I hope not."
She sleeps, her mind filled with dreams, and memories....
.... of what it was like to be dead.
There are times awake when she still feels tentatively for the burn marks left by the shot that killed her. They are not there, but that does not stop her looking. She remembers it clearly, tears in her eyes, a soft determination, and the final words in her mind, the words she could not give voice to.
John, I love you.
Then came a moment of pain, and she was dead.
It was not what she had expected. She was a priestess. She had grown up learning about the passage of souls, the continual cycle of birth and rebirth, of which death was only a part. She had dreamed of a place where no shadows fall, a place where she could be at peace, away from struggle and war and loss, where she could wait for her love to come to her.
Instead, there had been nothing. An empty blackness stretching out before her in all directions. She had never in all her life felt so alone.
She had been there for so long, crying out for someone, for anyone. There had been nothing. Then, just when fear was all she knew and all it seemed she had ever known, he had come to her. Lorien, the eldest of the elder races, the first of the first ones. He had smiled, and she had returned to the world of flesh.
She still dreamed about being dead. Sometimes she awoke to darkness and felt she was still dead, that all her life since that moment had been a dream. There were times in the night when all she could hear was her own heart beating, an echo of an echo of a mockery of her life.
She knew what she had to do now. She had rested enough. She was well now. She had said her final goodbyes. She had visited the grave of Mr. Welles and rested there in silent meditation for several hours, hoping he had at last found peace. She had gone to Dexter Smith and spoken of his dreams for Sector 301. She had visited the shrine that had arisen at the place of her death and tried to impart something to the people who expected her to solve all their problems for them. She had communicated with the Alliance Council, preparing herself for her return to them.