And as for their leader, the blessed Delenn…. Ambassador David Sheridan had no idea what she was doing, for he was not looking at her at all. Not even a glance.

"We must not let zealots on either side blind us to the possibilities of a strong, working peace. The race you call the Shadows, and that I call friends, have much to offer you all. They have helped humanity return to security, they have helped protect the borders of humanity's space, and have provided technology far in advance of anything else currently available.

"The 'Shadows' wish only to help the other races, and live in peace and understanding with them. Their actions have been purely defensive on all occasions, aimed at countering threats to their welfare by others. All you have heard about them are half-truths and misconceptions, spread by their enemies. Spread by ignorance.

"They will be happy to show such people as Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, his…. Rangers, and even Primarch Sinoval the error they have been labouring under." G'Kael started briefly at mention of G'Kar's name, but he said nothing. "Any or all of you are welcome to come to the Shadows' homeworld of Z'ha'dum, or if you would prefer, to Proxima Three. They wish only peace…. and a better understanding between us all."

He would not be believed of course, not with both Delenn and G'Kar here. The Narn might be possible to circumvent, but it would be difficult; he had been surrounded by Vorlons for too long. And as for Delenn…. Well, with her there were a thousand years of Vorlon indoctrination to get through, and that was simply not going to happen. But he had another trump card to play with her.

"We wish only peace," he repeated. "They wish only…. to help."

He does not respect you.

She does not love you.

I will make you stronger. I will make you better than him. I will make her love you.

Kozorr sat alone in his cell, thinking. He was alone, but by his own request. He was also, as strange as it may sound, not a prisoner, save by his own will.

All the time he had been here he had been sparring with Sonovar, each of them testing their skill with the denn'bok, unarmed, and with other weapons. They were evenly matched, despite Kozorr's injuries. Neither had been able to kill the other.

"Imagine you were not injured so," Sonovar had said. "What could you accomplish then? More even than Sinoval, perhaps."

He thought of Kats, and wondered ever so tentatively where she was, and what she was doing now. She would be with him, the Primarch, the greatest warrior of this generation, and perhaps of any other.

He had told her at last that he loved her. He had been prepared to give his life for her.

Would Sinoval have done as much?

She will never love you.

Sonovar had said so. He could be lying. He had lied about a great many things, but Minbari did not lie. Did Kats love him? Could she truly love him?

Could she, with Sinoval there? Knowing that the Primarch was greater than him?

She will never love you, not while she is with him. I can help you become greater than him.

He rose to his feet, moving awkwardly. The injuries to his leg seemed more crippling than ever. He raised his arms wide and roared in defiance. He did not know what to do, or what to think.

She will never love you.

"She will love me," he roared. "She…. will."

This, more than anything, he did not want to do. Bad enough his duty had brought him to this pathetic planet in the first place, but to be placed here, in this position, to confront his greatest failure….

David Sheridan had thought about his son continually for sixteen years, ever since the war had started. He had not seen him for over thirteen of those years, and now he would see him again, fully paid for all the wrong choices he had made.

He did not want to, but ties of blood were greater by far than ties of water. He had one last duty to perform for his son.

The guards did not see him. The doctors did not see him either. It was late at night. Delenn was not here. He had chosen his time carefully.

He was not truly certain who to blame. John had made his own decisions, and the choice to betray his people and his wife had been one of those. He was a man now, and had been so for many years. He had a right to make those decisions.

But it was a father's duty to tell his son where he had gone wrong.

But then…. how much of this had been Delenn's doing? John had been loyal and true before he had met her. He could not decide. There was another fate in store for Delenn, a fate that should serve as a reminder to John of what happened to those she claimed to love.

He paused and looked down at the figure in the bed. It hardly looked anything like the young man he remembered. Thirteen years, almost fourteen now…. that would change anyone a lot. But this much…?

John was asleep, or so it seemed. Jha'dur's subtle revenge was close to claiming him. A few more months at most. Ambassador Sheridan hated Jha'dur for a great many things, but for this more than anything else.

His son should not have to die this way, and if Delenn chose correctly he would not have to.

Placing his son's fate in her hands…. that hurt. In spite of everything that John had done…. to Anna, to humanity, to his crew and his Government…. in spite of all that, John was still his son.

John was beginning to wake up. It was dark in here, but certain…. changes had been made to David in order to help him see better. He could see his son's face all too well. He wished he could not.

John blinked, and strained to look round. "Wh…. who's there?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, rasping. "Who…? Not Delenn…." He fell silent, and his breathing continued as regular, as unnatural as always.

"D…. Dad," he breathed.

"Hello, John. You certainly messed everything up this time, hmm?"

He had always wanted to be a father, always wanted the joy of bringing life into the world, of watching his child being born, growing, learning, and over time becoming greater than him. He had believed that there could be no greater joy for a parent than to be surpassed by his children.

And no greater pain than to watch his children fail.

Ambassador David Sheridan looked down at his crippled, dying son, and he was not sure what to think. He had not seen John in over thirteen years, but he had never been far from his thoughts. To see him like this….

Still, he knew who to blame, and she would receive her own punishment for her part in this.

But that could wait.

"D…. Dad?" whispered the pathetic figure in the life support system.

"Hello, John," he replied, using every iota of his skill and experience not to reveal his true emotions. Some things had to be said here, and he had to say them. If John was to live, then he had to understand what he had done, and where he had gone wrong.

And teaching him those things was a father's duty, was it not?

"You really messed things up this time, hmm?"

"Dad," he whispered. "Ah…. d…. dreaming. You're dead."

David shook his head. "No, I'm not dead, John. There have been times I wished I were, but…. I'm still alive, more so than you are by the looks of things."

"Where's…. Mum? Liz? I'm dead…. aren't I? This is…. Heaven?"

"Trust me, John. I've never been to Heaven, but I hope it's better than this place. You're still alive, and so am I. I was one of the lucky ones, John. I got away. Your Mum and Liz…. they didn't."