pastb1

Notes: This story contains the main storyline from Geometry of Shadows, a Second Season episode, with only a small change. Jeffrey Sinclair never left Babylon 5.

Stephen Franklin grimaced and shook his head from side to side. His hand landed on the bed and the medpad hit the covers not far behind it. "Why is it that you only call me doctor when you have done, are doing, or are going to do something against my orders?"

Garibaldi shrugged and rolled his shoulders. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Doc."

"Yeah," Stephen sighed and leaned back from Michael again. His eyes roamed over the security chief's back. The PPG wound shone purple in the midst of the tanned skin of the back. It was angry and just plain ugly..in the doctor's medical opinion. "Does this hurt?" He pressed gently above the wound.

Michael's face screwed up in pain momentarily, but relaxed as the doctor's hand moved away. "Not a bit."

Garibaldi's eyes rolled slightly back in his head, but he kept his back from twitching. "Nope."

Stephen frowned behind Mike and pressed, almost viciously, against the wound. Michael slid off the front of the table and his feet slapped against the floor. "Damn! What the hell are you trying to do?" Garibaldi rounded on his friend. "That fucking hurt!"

Stephen nodded and gave a half smile. "As were most of the other touches that I was giving you, but you didn't let on. I don't like it when my patients lie to me."

"I don't lie, Stephen." Garibaldi reached to grab his shirt and pulled it, slowly, on his shoulders. "I tell versions of truth."

"I see," Franklin nodded, although he appeared to be doing the exact opposite. "Well, aside from the lies, I can give you a clean bill of health for work. I know you are probably chomping at the bit to return to the saddle."

Garibaldi looked at his feet while he pulled on his shirt. "Sure thing, Doc.just let me know when I am able to return to work."

Stephen nodded, moving away slowly. He was engrossed in the reading on the medpad. "I give you another day, give or take a few hours."

As Mike buttoned his shirt, he grimaced. The pain in his back was intense. "What do you know of this Captain Sheridan?"

Stephen looked up and met Mike's eyes and lowered his face again. "He seems to be a more than capable Earth Force officer.and an okay guy..why?

"I don't like him being stationed here.so close to the president's assassination. I mean don't you find it just a little.odd.that he is moved here within four days of the president's death? And to the place where the plot was uncovered? I mean, it might just be me." Mike sighed as he finished buttoning his shirt. "But I think something rotten is going on in Denmark."

Stephen snorted and shook his head again. "That might be so, but for some reason.I think John Sheridan is on the up and up, Garibaldi."

"We'll see," the security chief stated as he tucked in his shirt. "I don't trust anyone I don't know as far as I can throw them. I'll be doing my own research on the guy."

Franklin nodded as Garibaldi moved toward the door. "Hey.you know, you didn't sound very excited about going back to work, Mike."

"I'll get back to you on that, Franklin." Michael moved through the door and let it slide shut behind him. It cut off Stephen from saying more which was a good thing.

Michael slipped his hands in his pocket and moved down the hall with a step only slightly hindered by his back injury. The tan material of his pants and weave of his shirt stretched across the muscles that just lay under the surface of the fabric. Muscles that he had spent the better part of three years forming and perfecting for this job.for his job. Security chief positions required top physical form, alert senses and the ability to act in an irrational manner. He fit all of the prerequisites as far as he was concerned. Or at least now he thought he fit them.

Stepping into the lift, he turned and quietly stated his floor. The door slid shut without anyone else climbing aboard. He was glad. On a station of a quarter of a million sentient beings, being alone was a premium experience that was in short supply.

He was in top physical condition.had to be to be on Babylon 5, and a member of Earth Force Security. He remembered training on Mars. Intensive training just to be up to Jeff's standards when Mike had joined him on station. The smile on Garibaldi's lips came easily. Sinclair was not an easy man to work for, but he would not have it any other way.

Leaning forward, Mike stared at the floor. And the acting in an irrational manner clause.he fit that as well. Hell, there was no question there. He was classified legally insane in several systems; but considered sane on Earth. He wondered if that stated more about the normal mental state of Earthers than it did about him.

So.in top form and insane. But, the alert senses.that paranoid tendency that he usually had to not trust anyone.to constantly watch his back. Where the hell had that gone? How the hell had he let a dirtbag scum of his second that close to him? To let his senses down enough so that he could get shot in the back.

No, Mike thought as the door slid open and let him exit on his floor. No, his seventh sense and the Holy Book of Divine Paranoia according to Garibaldi had deserted him. He was soft. Complacent. And it had almost gotten him killed. Not a good thing.even on a bad day.

So.Garibaldi sighed as he turned the corner toward his room. The question was.did he still have what it took to do this job? Did he still have something to offer to the position? Somehow, he had to find out.

Sheridan shook his head as he stood on the command deck of the observation dome. With his arms folded behind his back and his chest puffed out, he appeared taller and broader than what he was. But then again, thought Jeff Sinclair, perception was everything in command. He knew that better than anyone.

Jeff gave Sheridan a sideways glance. The older Captain stood facing the window that dominated most of the forward section. His head was nodding slowly. When Jeff didn't answer, John turned his head slightly to meet Sinclair's eyes.

"It's space. It's always cold..but yes.yes.it does `get cold'." Sinclair answered, turning back forward towards the open space ahead of him. John Sheridan's sudden appearance on Babylon 5 had thrown both Sinclair and the station into an uproar. He was the 'military' presence on the station.the `official' presence of Earth Force. It left a large portion of the aliens onboard feeling uneasy.and it left Jeff feeling at a loss. Even after four days, he still wondered why Earthdome had sent another officer to Babylon 5.

Sinclair started and turned back to look at his former classmate. The dome was quiet around them as most of the personnel had left for the night and it seemed that the silence was heavy at that moment. "What the hell are you talking about?"

John watched as the last of the crew walked out the door. With a swing, he turned to face his contemporary. "I am talking about the way that you stare at me like you assume that I am a walking bomb set to explode when you turn your back. Jesus, Sinclair."

Jeff turned and walked to his desk in the back of the dome. Sheridan followed, stopping at a decent distance. "You have told your wing squads to only answer to you until told otherwise.you instruct the head of security to do a full background on me.you ask this Commander.."

"Ivanova.to handle most of the diplomatic interactions so that you can remain glued to my side." John leaned forward on the bar. "What am I suppose to think? What is it that you are looking for in me? Or what aren't you expecting out of me? Dammit, Jeff.you always were a paranoid little.."

Sinclair rounded on Sheridan, nearly flying across the closed space. "What is going on now has nothing to do with the Academy, Sheridan..not a damn thing. This is my station. I have direct authority over this sector of space as delineated by President Santiago."

Jeff's eyes narrowed as he moved to grip the bar next to Sheridan. "This has no bearing on who is in office now. My authority extends to this place and I will not give up that authority until I am told directly otherwise. And come on, John, don't you think it is just a tad bit strange that you were stationed here at the time that you were?"

"I would never imply anything, John." Sinclair sat down in his chair. "But this is my station, my command, and I have a quarter of a million lives that I am responsible for here. If there is something that might put even a subsection of this population at risk, then I am interested in it. If your commission to this station even places one person in danger, Sheridan, I want to know about it. You being here now makes me a little nervous. And the timing of it, as with anything, is everything."

Sheridan pushed away from the bar and stalked across the floor to stand at the lieutenant station. "Diplomacy 101, Jeff.never let the enemy know what you are about.paint other pictures.throw up a smoke screen..but god.to come right out and tell them that you are nervous around them? Never."

"I'm telling you straight out, John, so that we are on even ground and you understand that I am watching you." Sinclair pressed a couple of buttons and looked up at John through lowered lids. "That way.mistakes might be held to a minimum."

Sheridan turned, viciously pulling at his jacket closure. "I'm an EarthForce officer, Sinclair."

John screwed his face up in a parody of a smile. "What you are saying, Jeff.you don't trust Earth Force do you?"

"I don't trust large, impersonal organizations. I trust individuals and orders from individuals. I am not against EarthForce or Earthdome.but I know you have checked all of the.background shall we say on me and my actions thus far on Babylon 5."

"You rewrote the book a few times, but you always followed the book you created."

"And I intend to continue doing what I must to insure that this station survives.so that its mission.survives. And until someone removes me from my position.that is the status quo." Jeff lifted his head to fully address his fellow officer. Meeting John's eyes, he could not see the color or clarity of them. It was as if Sheridan was standing shadowed. There was a gleam in his sight that was not limited to the light around John, but it came from inside. "And I have made several enemies because of this.philosophy and my methods. I have even been called.traitor in some circles. "

"So you continue on as you have even at the cost of your career?" John leaned forward on the bar. "Some would consider that a sign of insanity, Jeffrey."

"I consider it loyal to my command. I'm more of a military governor than an officer. I do what I must."

John shook his head and sighed. The anger had left him. Sinclair was telling him this for a reason, almost as a plea to understand.to share the burden of command with another officer that he knew.regardless of the previous relationship that they had had. "You know.what are you talking about.heard by the wrong ears...could be considered enough to get you court-martialed. If, and this is a large if, you happen to say anything that is in the least bit different than what Earth Force wants, being brought up on charges might become a reality. Things are changing on Earth.and you have to know what side you are on."

Jeff rose slowly. "I am on the side of Earth. Don't ever question that." As he switched a few knobs, he walked away from the console. "But I am on the side of Babylon 5 as well. I wonder about you. If there is some subversive reason why you are here, Sheridan, I will find it out. I don't like secrets that can harm. Keep that in mind."

With that, Sinclair swept along the bar and out into the corridor. The door slid closed behind him, and the observation dome descended into silence. John Sheridan squinted and shook his head. There had to be some other reason that Jeff had told him all of that information. Sinclair had to have some inkling of why Sheridan was there. His `real' purpose. Or maybe it was possible that what was said about Jeff Sinclair was true. He was insane. That his time in the war and those missing 24 hours had fried his brain.

For some reason, although the other Captain was younger, John just felt like he had gotten reprimanded or scolded. Sinclair had informed him that he was watched. That the captain had considered Sheridan's presence and had considered him a problem if not a threat. And this was Jeff's way of neutralizing the threat. He had not said anything that would be considered traitorous. Just several things that would be thought odd or at most ambiguous. But it left an uneasy feeling in John's mind.

He had a job to do here. And he was not quite sure where Jeff stood. Sinclair's position, if contrary to his own, would make his mission almost impossible to complete. But he would complete it. If Sinclair's main position was to protect and maintain Babylon 5, then his was to protect and maintain Earth.

As he turned around and gripped the bar, he sighed and gazed at space. Wide open, beautiful space. How the hell did he get these missions? Spying and delving and searching and subversion. It was all so far removed from his position on the Agamemnon. But he owed it to the Earth that he knew and loved and treasured above almost everything else. He would do it.with or without Jeffrey Sinclair. But he would find out where this rogue Captain stood. Babylon 5 was important.

And he couldn't fail. His hazel eyes glittered as his baritone voice called for the lights to dim. And in the darkness of the dimmed interior, he relaxed against the console and closed his eyes.

Londo sighed and put down his cup of Hot Jalor and nodded. "It was the least that I could do. It is time that our problems with the Narns are finished once and for all, don't you agree, Refa?"

"I more than agree, Mollari." Refa's eyes raised to look at the older, more portly Ambassador. "Your name will be whispered in the ear of the Emperor. His major advisors are lauding the name of the Mollari house."

Mollari moved his bulk between the chair and the table and sat down. "I suppose that is a good thing."

Refa grinned and nodded. "Mollari.how you did this and no one knows that it was us..it is amazing.and it would take more fire power than what we have in the entire Imperial arsenal."

Londo knew that the topic of conversation would eventually turn to the amount of damage that had been delivered to the small Sector 37 outpost. His head lowered, causing his hair to plume above his head in a display of gray and black. His hands fell, holding the cup between them, to his lap. The stark blackness of his pants against his pale skin made him feel like a ghost.of himself and of his dreams. But it was no use to bring that up to Refa. The man would not understand.

Power was all Refa understood. And suddenly, Londo Mollari had become a person of power.and Refa was drawn to him like...what was it those humans called those little flying insects that flew towards flames? Butterflies? Bees? No.moths.that was it. Refa was like a moth to flame. Mollari took another sip. "Yes, Refa. I will let you know about how we accomplished that act one day. Just be reassured that the means are our allies."

Refa nodded, rising to leave. "I can see that you will not tell me. I suppose I should have expected that. Just keep these people as our allies, Londo."

Mollari nodded and watched as his mentor walked from his quarters. He could feel the eyes of his attach‚ on his back but did not turn.

"He is going to pursue you, Londo." Vir stated, his voice sounding different from its usually light tone. "He wants the means that you used."

"Your job is to be my attache, Vir. Not to hound me like a mother about things you do not understand." Londo turned and walked into the kitchen area. His hot Jalor awaited him.

"As you say, Londo," Vir intoned again, moving to the door. He had a bad feeling about all of this.everything.and this Mr. Morden.just seemed almost the total embodiment of evil. With a sigh, he moved through the door to allow his employer to get drunk. It was only a matter of time until he got called back. And he wanted to be ready.

February 10 ,2259 Babylon 5 Security Alert

Command officer intervention needed. Diplomacy requested.

Because of several days of conflict, there are four Drazi natives in Medlab, and twelve awaiting incarceration for assault. Approximately 29 persons have filed complaints for noise and property damage because of the conflicts. As a group, the Drazi have invoked the Right of Religious Expression in Section 5, Subsection 10, page 22 of the Babylon 5 charter. Under such a heading, we are unable to exert security force against them. Request intervention immediately.

End of Security Alert

Ivanova's eyes flew over the notice. Slowly, she lowered the flimsy and gazed at her commanding officer.

Sinclair looked up at her over the flimsies that he held in his hands. She stood there, just calmly staring back at him. He knew that look, but didn't know how it fit into the situation. She gave that look to him when he was being particularly thickheaded.in her opinion. "What else, Commander?" His voice rumbled across the space. Usually, he was in the mood to spar with her, but four days with little or no sleep had made him in sour spirits.

"May I speak off the record, Captain?" Her alto voice was clear, not the least bit hesitant.

His hand hit the desk and he centered his stare on his second in command. Her blue eyes met his gaze. After a few short, silent minutes, he nodded once curtly and waved his hand toward the chair opposite his seat across the desk. "Is it a problem with your orders, Ivanova?"

"No, sir. Not a problem. I will address the Drazi as a group and try and figure out the nature of the conflicts that we are seeing and get at a way to solve it peacefully. No." Ivanova sat down and leaned forward a little, her hands clasped in her lap. "No, Captain.this deals with you."

"Not today, Susan." Jeff sighed and lowered his eyes again to the papers on his desk.

"You are not getting any sleep." Ivanova stated, lowly, beginning, with or without permission from Sinclair. "And you are hounding Sheridan like...like...well...like a hound of hell. Everywhere the man goes you are five steps behind. This is not like you."

Jeff raised his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. His chocolate eyes slid shut and his voice was very quiet. "What do you mean...not like me."

"You are acting." Ivanova sighed, looking off to the side. She supposed there was no other way to tell him, but bluntly. "Stupid, sir...for lack of a better term. If Sheridan were to do something.anything.it would not be while you are watching."

"I took care of that problem about six hours ago, Ivanova." Sinclair answered, opening his eyes again. "I told him I am watching him."

"I don't trust the orders that he was sent here under, Susan.and I am still trying to decide if I trust him as a person. Until the time that it becomes clear, I am going under the assumption that his placement here is under suspicious circumstances, and at a suspicious time." He tilted his head to the side. "Don't tell me that you trust him."

"I haven't made up my mind about him. But I don't trust anyone that has not earned my trust."

"And he has not," Jeff stated, leaning his head forward to pin her with a meaningful gaze.

"No, he has not. And yes, I agree that he is here under suspicious circumstances. But that is not the point that I am making here.. Captain.Jeff.you need to rest and relax just a little bit." She answered earnestly, her blue eyes a little wide. "I can handle this diplomacy problem, and I can help you get a feel for Sheridan. Let me take some of the responsibility as well. Trust me."

Sinclair raised his head fully at the mention of his name and squinted his eyes at Susan for a moment. She simply and calmly returned his appraisal. When he didn't speak, she continued.

"Jeff. You promoted me with the thought in mind that you needed help running B 5." She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak when his deep voice overran hers.

"Fine. Deal with the Drazi and then see what you can gather about our Captain Sheridan." His voice was not unkind, but he appeared to be talking in a begrudging manner. Susan gave him a half smile and rose quickly. For all his bluster, Jeff Sinclair's bite was mild with those he knew as friends. That had not changed.

As she stood, she pulled at the bottom hem of her uniform jacket and nodded. "Very well, Captain."

She walked to the door; her back turned to Sinclair. As she neared the portal, his voice called across the room. "This situation, Susan.with the President.it worries me. We know it was not an accident. But it remains to be seen how far up it goes in the government."

"I understand." she stated and continued out the door, her head slightly lowered in thought.

"Have a good flight, Lord Refa," Londo stated, his hands spread in the effort to show friendship. The taller, thinner Centauri accepted the hands, but maintained his stern countenance.

"I intend to have a good flight, Mollari. But remember what we talked about, Ambassador. Soon there will be a change at home, a change for which we have to be prepared." Refa's accented voice was low. The dark quality of it, however, was unable to be masked in the lowered timbre. Vir, standing slightly behind Londo, had to suppress a shudder that threatened to make even his hair shiver at the sound of Refa's voice. In his mind, it was like listening to darkness speak. "We must be prepared to move when we need to, Londo. And we must have support."

"We will have support, Refa." Londo answered. His dark eyes darted from side to side, as if looking for his destiny. "I will be in touch."

Refa nodded and turned to stroll up the loading dock toward the waiting transport. The sway of his coat tails, made of rich red material, matched the sway of his hair, cut and curled high on his head. As he disappeared around the corner, Londo released a breath in a rush. Tension left his shoulders and he relaxed. Behind him, he could feel the insecurity of his attach‚ as well as his naivet‚. It floated off the younger Centauri like a wisp of cloud on a warm day.

It bothered him. this freshness and wonder in his attach‚. Although Vir had become a friend in recent months, it remained that Londo would get annoyed at him. But whether it was at the image of himself in his youth that bothered him or at the lack of what he considered maturity still remained to be seen.

Before he could turn to address his companion, his eyes caught on a being that was entering the disembarking bay. The humanoid, completely clothed in the blackest black, was tall and foreboding. But it was the object that he held in his hand and not the bald head or shiny clothing that held Londo's interest. "Great Maker."

"We used to have them at home. They use science to work magic. Very powerful and very feared. To see one is considered a great occurrence. To see more than one." Londo shook his head. ".is considered a very bad omen. The current Emperor took his throne on the recommendation and authorization of a technomage."

Vir frowned and sighed. Londo leaned back to tap on Vir's chest. "Look Vir, there are three of them. This is a very bad omen."

You are telling me, Vir thought, following the tall, black clad beings with his eyes. And I didn't need a technomage to tell me that horrible things are coming.

Susan stood at the head of the Council chambers, a small collection flimsies in her right hand. A collection of Drazi, each wearing either green or purple around their necks, entered and sat in the bleacher type seats that surrounded the well in the center of the room. Her first thought was to approach the bunch and demand an explanation, but the Captain's low voice echoed in the back of her mind: "Fine art of diplomacy"

So she stood there, and stared at the collection of smaller, scaled yet humanoid aliens. She respected this race, normally, but could not understand what had gotten into them. In the last four days, they had virtually become a demolition team. "Thank you all for meeting with me. I am Commander Susan Ivanova. The Captain has asked me to investigate and understand this.ritual.that you seem to be involved in here. I wish to try and understand.so.if you could explain this to me."

Susan hoped that her voice sounded confident. She was competent and confident.in a position of an officer where her orders were essentially law. This was a whole different ballgame. She only wished that she could just order them to cease and desist.

Hesitantly, with several glances amongst others that wore the same color as the main speaker, the Drazi explained the background for their ritual. And the explanation was enough to bring a smile to Susan's face. As the conversation wore on, her smile turned into a look of disbelief. At the end of the short lecture on Drazi history, Ivanova waved the flimsies in her hand in the air. "So.let me get this straight. You pull cloths out of a bag and whatever color you pick.that is the ..team that you are on? That's it? And this goes on for how long?"

Maybe it was the tone of her voice, but the green Drazi leader sneered. "It is what we do.it is our law. Every five years, Drazi separate into two groups and fight."

Susan almost laughed, but kept the giggle in at the last minute. She schooled her face with some difficulty. How in the name of heaven did Sinclair do this without laughing outright? "But what is the nature of your.conflict? What do you fight for?"

The Drazi with a green kerchief around his neck pointed to the one with purple around his neck. "Purple." He stated, as though the one word would clarify the mysteries of the universe.

Susan's mouth fell open. "Purple? That's it? Just because he pulled a cloth out of box that was purple.that is the reason that you are trying to beat the..ahem.trying to harm the other.group?" What the hell was this? What kind of a group..

Susan put down the flimsies at the place that would normally be Captain Sinclair's at the main table. "So let me see if I understand this. If I were to switch this cloth."she reached forward and removed a green cloth from one Drazi and put it on the neck of a purple Drazi. "From this one to this one.that would have to make you."

Ivanova never finished her sentence. She found herself flying backwards from the weight and force of a flying Drazi as he launched himself at the one Drazi that she had just switched the colors. The room erupted into a melee of Biblical proportions, with Drazi flying everywhere. But the loudest noise, by far, came from Susan's own mouth as she landed on her ankle.

It was almost as if she could here the break in the bone as it occurred. The scream was more in anger than anything else and she viciously pushed the Drazi off of her. "Get off! Good lord!"

The Drazi moved away from her, tumbling over each other in their haste to inflict harm on the other color team. She lay, centered on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

With a stab of her finger, and a groan of pain, she activated the comm on her wrist. "Ivanova, here..Medlab.I have a patient for you." Somehow, she had to figure out how to handle this bunch. Strategy was her forte. She was able to plan and execute an attack.she was able to run this station.so long she could give orders and have them obeyed. But this.

What a day, she thought. Her head hit the hard floor and she waited for Medlab to arrive.