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13 March 2007 @ 02:15 pm
Fic: A Shadow in the Pattern 2/?  
Title: A Shadow in the Pattern
Rating
: PG-13
Characters: Kara, Anders, Gaeta, Hot Dog, Barolay, the cast of B5, etc.
Pairing:
some Kara/Anders, mostly gen
wordcount: 4200
Spoilers: through 'Rapture' and goes extremely AU. none for Babylon 5 (set S1, just post "Babylon Squared")

Summary: "All this happened before..."

Notes: Part 2 of my WIP Battlestar Galactica and Babylon 5 crossover.

Part One here




The lights of the room focused only on her chamber, leaving all the rest in darkness. He heard the low hum from the machinery, and the soft thump of the heart of the ship. Her constant whispering was just another background noise to the others, but not to him. She could see all the tapestry of times to come, and sometimes she could share it with him.

The Hybrid was his oracle, and from her, he would learn if the pattern he saw was true portent, or only illusion.

He knelt beside her, looking into her face. He said nothing, as her eyes looked past the confines of her small chamber and her mind sailed beyond this ship.

Then very gently he placed his fingers on the back of her hand.

She twitched and her gaze snapped to focus on him. Her sudden desperation took him off guard, in those eyes that seemed so human but saw infinity.

The words tumbled from her: "The storm rises shadows gather night falls what was comes again end of line all that was all that is giants walking time swirls changes unbroken circle end of line broken stars burn planets dust war death death death end of life." Her hand turned in his, gripping his tightly as she stared into his eyes, willing him to understand.

With frightening lucidity, she whispered, "They are coming."

The words hit like a blow. He knew what they meant, and they were exactly what he had feared. He bent his head, and he murmured, "All this happened before, it will happen -- "

She interrupted, momentarily fierce as a goddess with her eyes blazing, determined to give him one last truth. "Now."

Her hand slipped from his, as her gaze once more turned blank and distant. He stayed beside her anyway, watching the Hybrid as she interfaced between the ship and the stars.

===============

As Kara piloted them toward the docking bay entrance, Sam watched as the station grew larger, dwarfing their little ship. His stomach felt tight, as the metal skin of the station and the windows came into focus and the great maw of the entrance seemed to open like a mouth to swallow them whole.

Kara seemed to be feeling some of the same thing, hesitating when the station requested that she surrender control of the ship. He put a hand on her shoulder and she glanced up at him, worrying her lip with her teeth, then turned forward again and shut down the engines. "Here we go," she murmured, and the Raptor trembled as the magnetic grapples took hold and pulled them inside.

He tried to tell himself that this was not much different from coming to land on Galactica. But his gut told him that was a lie.

He kept a hand on Kara's shoulder as the Raptor floated through the tunnel and past bulkhead doors until the ship paused, and a pair of the big doors opened like a giant toothed mouth. They were drawn inside a metal cave with bright lights focused on a landing platform.

They landed with a little bounce and a thump. Kara snorted, "Clumsy." Brendan chuckled, but everyone else was too tense to speak.

The air on the other side of the front window turned into fog, and Felix reported what Sam already guessed, "Repressurizing underway. Thirty seconds."

"We're here, now what?" Jean asked. "Sam?"

"We play it like we planned." He leaned down and murmured in Kara's ear, "No guns."

"You sure know how to ruin a girl's day," she retorted, with a quick grin, and stood up. "Gaeta, we good to go?"

Felix glanced as his display. "Full atmosphere. We're ready."

Brendan was nearest the hatch control. "Should I?" At Sam's nod, he punched the ramp and the door opened. Brendan was first down the ramp, and the others followed.

Sam braced himself automatically, but the air was fine, if cold enough to make their breath puff.

A door opening on the far side of the landing platform caught his eye, and then two people came through. Sam exchanged a glance with Kara, seeing his own excitement reflected in her eyes. They looked human.

They were wearing tan coveralls, looking so similar to the deck crew on Galactica it was almost painful. One approached. "Have any cargo you need unloading?" she asked.

"No," Sam answered, "Just us. Thank you."

"No problem," she said and turned away.

"Uh, excuse me," he called after her. "Where are you from?"

She frowned. "Proxima. Why?"

"Do you know anyone from Earth?" he asked, trying not to show how important the question was to them, even though he and his four teammates were hanging on the answer.

"Well, sure," she answered with a puzzled smile. "Johnny over there, for one." She jerked her thumb at her young companion by the door.

So Earth still existed, that was a good thing to know. He wanted to ask more questions, but figured it would start looking suspicious.

He thanked her again and they followed the cargo handlers through the smaller airlock and into a corridor. The corridor was marked with signs in several languages, but one sign said clearly, "Station Entry" with an arrow pointing left.

Kara paced him, with Brendan and Felix in the middle, and Jean bringing up the rear.

He glanced back and chuckled. "Civilians, remember? We're not supposed to look like a marine squadron. C'mon, try to look a little less grim, people."

He took Kara's hand, and though she gave him a look, she left it there.

The group made the turn through an open doorway and into a large space that Sam had no trouble identifying as a customs or security area -- it had high ceilings, an obvious armed security presence, and two lines for passengers to go through checkpoints. Beyond the checkpoints there was a reception area with seats and many signs, most in languages he couldn't read.

"Lords of Kobol," he heard Jean whisper, and turned to see what she was looking at.

Coming from the opposite corridor that fed into this area, were a handful of ... aliens. They looked sort of human and wore clothes, but they had hairless spotted skin like lizards and bright red eyes. One of them was laughing uproariously at something one of his companions had said.

There was another group of different aliens already in line. These were pale with some sort of horns covering most of their bald heads. Once he started looking he realized there were a handful of other aliens scattered about, all vaguely human-shaped with two arms, two legs and a head on top, but that was where the similarity ended.

He felt suddenly dizzy and gripped Kara's hand tightly, reaching for normal when there was nothing else normal. What the frak was he doing here?

She squeezed back, murmuring, "At least they're not Cylons."

He snorted a laugh and felt a little better as he led the way to the line that was marked for Earth Alliance citizens.

===============

In the security office, Garibaldi watched on the monitors as the strangers disembarked from their "Raptor."

Standing at his back, the commander made a soft sound at the sight of them. "They really are human."

"You sound disappointed, Commander," Garibaldi turned his head to look up.

"I was hoping for something a little more... interesting," Sinclair admitted.

Garibaldi inwardly shook his head. Jeff Sinclair was the only human he knew who wasn't terrified by the idea of First Contact. He enjoyed it, despite how terribly first contact with the Minbari had gone. But then, Garibaldi had known Sinclair had an odd sense of fun for a long time.

"That ship is still from some unidentified shipyard, and it's not running an IFF we recognize. Maybe they're aliens in disguise," Garibaldi teased.

Sinclair's mouth twitched into a smile, but didn't buy it. "I think you can take it from here, Michael. Let me know what you find out."

He left, and so he missed the strangers' startlement at the sight of the Narns and Minbari in the arrival hall. Garibaldi felt a little prickle at the back of his neck. It was conceivable that a bunch of humans had never seen a Narn before, but Minbari? They were old enough to remember the war. It didn't seem like hatred or resentment -- after the surprise passed, most of the group ignored the Minbari, all except the young man who was staring with unabashed curiosity.

Garibaldi made his way down to the hall, hovering just in earshot of Perkins who was manning the station.

He had a good look at the strangers. They were all hyper-alert, which made him nervous. The couple holding hands was clearly in charge. The blonde woman called the gaping youngest back into line with a soft but sharp, "Constanza."

He stiffened to attention and nodded, sliding back into place behind her.

And then they were next, and moved in front of Perkins' desk.

Perkins held out his hand. "Identicards please."

Garibaldi wasn't surprised to hear the leader answer, "We don't have any. They were lost. In an accident."

Perkins nodded and followed procedure, knowing full well that Garibaldi was only a few steps away, "Name and place of birth?"

He hesitated slightly and answered, with a tiny shrug, "Samuel Anders. Kara Thrace. Jean Barolay. Felix Gaeta. And Brendan Constanza. We're all from... Proxima." Garibaldi almost smiled at the obvious lie.

Perkins diligently entered all the information, had each of them put their hands on the reader for the prints, and then told them, "It'll take a few minutes to process your information. You'll need to wait in the holding area."

Garibaldi took that as his cue and moved up. "Perkins, I'll take it from here."

Perkins looked a little startled, but then he didn't know about the strange ship these people had arrived on. "Sure, Chief."

"Michael Garibaldi, chief of security," he introduced himself. "You folks came in on that 'Raptor', right?"

"That's right," Thrace answered, the tilt of her chin a little aggressive. "Why? Did we do something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Garibaldi answered. "Babylon Five is an open port. But we do require some verification that you're not wanted criminals. So as Perkins said, you'll need to wait in holding until we can process your identity and issue new identicards for you."

He didn't miss Thrace and Anders exchanging another look. Maybe they were fugitives. Fugitives were all desperate, and desperate people were dangerous people. He waved Marcham and Stensi to form up on them. "This way. Please."

"Of course," Anders said. "We understand. We'll go quietly." That seemed to be as much for the people with him as Garibaldi. "We're not here to make trouble."

"Good. Troublemakers make me cranky," Garibaldi advised him and led the way out.

The group followed tamely to security central, looking around at everything with great interest.

"You can all wait here," he waved them inside the large interrogation room. "Until your identities come in."

Thrace made an aggravated sound. "Look, let's just cut to it, okay? It's going to be a waste of time. We don't have identities from your government. We're not from here."

"Kara," Anders said, in exasperation.

"Sam, I know this is supposed to be your show, but he knows we're not from Proxima, wherever that is. He asked about the Raptor. Is it that different from your ships?" she asked Garibaldi.

He took a moment to answer, surprised that she was admitting that they'd just lied to a security officer. "No, not that different. But different enough. So where are you from, really?"

"The Twelve Colonies of Kobol," Anders answered, like it was supposed to mean something.

"Never heard of it. Are you really human?" he asked.

They all looked briefly surprised at the question. "Yes. Though we've been separate from the Thirteenth Tribe a long time. Earth is from our legends. We weren't even sure it was real," Anders said.

Garibaldi managed a chuckle, "Oh, it's certainly real. Well, come sit down and we'll get to the bottom of this."

The lost colony story again? Did people never learn?

Garibaldi shook his head inwardly and set himself to finding out the truth.


===============

Sam was getting frustrated, and he knew when he was feeling it, Kara was probably only a step away from hitting things.

"I don't know how many times and in how many ways I can say it," he said, trying to keep a leash on his tone. "We're from the Twelve Colonies. According to our own legends the Lords of Kobol brought us there about four thousand of our years ago. A thirteenth tribe went to Earth. We've been trying to find out if the legend is true. So when the pilot of the other Raptor heard the station was connected to Earth, we had to see if it was true."

"All right. Where are these Twelve Colonies?" Garibaldi asked.

"I don't know," Sam answered. "Anyone?" he directed the question at the others. Barolay shrugged, but then he didn't figure that she knew anyway.

Kara shook her head, "No, but I bet we could figure it out. Gaeta?"

Felix nodded, and spoke to Garibaldi, "As long as you can show us where we are right now, I think we can figure out the approximate location."

Garibaldi blinked, looking surprised by the offer. "All right." He looked at the mirrored glass observation window. "Bring a map."

A moment later one of the guards came in with a large sheet of paper with a simplified map of the entire galaxy on it. Garibaldi pointed to a small green dot on one of the arms. "This is Babylon 5."

He stayed silent while Kara and Felix examined the map. "We're here," she put a finger on the green dot. "Galactic center is here."

Felix rotated the map around and stopped it with his finger. "Galactic north is here. So the Colonies were, somewhere, around here." He put his hand flat on a section of the map and Kara nodded her agreement.

Garibaldi stood up and peered at where they had indicated. "You sure about that?" he asked, and Sam got a chill. There was something wrong with that answer.

Felix had to know it as well, but he stood straight and answered, "Yes. Without a better map, we can't say where within that area, but somewhere. I'm sure."

"That's very far away," Garibaldi answered, his sheer neutrality giving away that, for some reason, he didn't believe it at all.

Sam decided he'd better hurry up and take his shot, before no one listened to them at all. "Mister Garibaldi, I'm the duly appointed Secretary of State to President Roslin of the Twelve Colonies."

"Oh, you are? Now you tell me this?" Garibaldi asked, looking skeptical.

Sam explained, and he could see the others relax as he relieved them of the burden of keeping their mouths shut, "We were supposed to come check things out. Blend in. Obviously that's not going to work. So I'm skipping straight to the rest of our mission. I need to speak to your commander, whoever is in charge here. You're right; the Colonies are very far from here. But we've not seen them in more than a year, because the Colonies don't exist anymore. We're refugees."

"Our fleet has only forty thousand people, all that's left of billions," Brendan added, sounding so earnest Sam couldn't believe he'd been in a war all this time. "We're not here to attack you, we're here to find a new home."

"You have forty thousand people somewhere?" Garibaldi asked. "Where?"

Sam held up a hand to keep the others from blabbing it out. "I'm not saying until I get a chance to speak with your commander."

Garibaldi gave nothing away. "I'll pass along your request." He gathered up the map. "It's dinner time. I'll have food brought to you. Don't go anywhere."

He left and Jean rolled her eyes. "Right. Like we're going to run away with our ship impounded."

"I wonder why he didn't believe us about the Colonies," Felix said, frowning. "I don't believe Earth is on the other side of the galaxy from here. Relatively speaking we didn't point to anywhere that far away."

"I think he just doesn't believe us about anything," Kara grumped. "At least they're going to feed us."

She got up to prowl around the room again restlessly, and Sam caught her hand and pulled her back to sit on his lap. "C'mere. Maybe we'll get to talk to his boss."

"And if we don't?" she asked. "If they're going to slap us in jail because they can't figure out who and what we are?"

He pulled her down to kiss and whispered in her ear, "Then we get dangerous."

The gleam in her eyes turned eager. "Now you're talking."

He put a finger across her lips, pulling away when she nipped at it. "Patience." He looked at the others and repeated, "That goes for us all. Patience. We know we're telling the truth, but getting through their suspicions is going to take time."

But even his patience wasn't infinite.

=============

Sinclair muted the ISN anchorperson when Garibaldi came in.

"Anything on the Mars situation?" Garibaldi asked, nodding toward the screen, before sitting down in the chair across the desk.

"Nothing new." They exchanged a troubled look, but Sinclair didn't want to think about what the lack of news meant and changed the subject, "What about our guests?"

Garibaldi leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. "Well, they're claiming to be from a lost colony. And I can't shake 'em from that."

"You'd think after the Centauri tried it, people would figure out that it doesn't work. Any hits on their prints?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. The good news is they're not in the wanted database. So I don't think they're fugitives. The bad news is it's going to take at least twelve hours to get word back from Earth Central on their DNA. Assuming it's in there." He shrugged. "A lot of records got fragged in the war. Hopefully I'll get at least one hit."

Sinclair waited a moment, sensing there was more to this report. So far there was nothing that Garibaldi couldn't have linked in to tell him. "And?"

"They call their lost colony the "Twelve Colonies of Kobol." That ring any bells to you?"

Sinclair thought about it for a moment and had to shake his head. "No. Did you do a search on it?"

"I did. Came up empty. But there was one thing -- " he stood up and with a perfunctory glance for permission, ordered, "Computer, display galactic map, color-coding the major territories."

Garibaldi pointed to the middle of the yellow. "They said their Colonies are there."

Sinclair lifted his brows in surprise. "Vorlon space?"

"And they didn't back down. Now, that's either the cleverest story I can imagine or the stupidest. Everybody knows the Vorlons don't let anybody in their territory."

"But it doesn't necessarily follow that there can't have been humans there for a long time," Sinclair mused, more seriously wondering if this could be true. "The Vorlons are an old race - Delenn says they were spacefaring millions of years ago. Who's to say they didn't move a group of humans from Earth and seed them somewhere? Old legends often have a root of truth to them someplace."

He knew exactly what he was going to have to do to find out if it was true. He sighed inwardly, resigned.

Garibaldi added, "Well, apparently the colonies don't exist anymore. Some kind of cataclysm. But there are forty thousand refugees in a fleet not too far from us. Supposedly."

"Forty thousand?" He glared at the chief. "Michael, you couldn't have mentioned the massive fleet first?"

Garibaldi shrugged. "I have no idea if it's true. The tall one? Anders? He claimed to be their secretary of state and won't say more 'til he talks to you."

"Then I'd better talk to him. After I talk to Kosh." Letting his sigh escape, Sinclair stood up. "Unfortunately he's probably the only one who can confirm their story. I'll go visit and see what he says." And with any luck he would understand the answer. The Vorlon Ambassador was known for being cryptic to the point of obtuseness, when he spoke at all.

Garibaldi bid him with cheerful sarcasm, "Have fun." He led the way out the door. "I'll be back in central. Link in if you need me."

On the way to the alien sector, Sinclair framed his question carefully. Too open ended and he risked a non-sensical answer, and too closed and the answer was likely to be too pithy to be helpful.

He entered the airlock and announced, "Commander Sinclair requesting to see Ambassador Kosh."

There was a moment he thought Kosh might refuse, but then the access to the breathing masks opened and he knew he would be allowed in. He fit the mask over his face and waited as the air shifted composition to the methane compound that Kosh breathed. The inner airlock door opened.

He had never gone past the small antechamber on the other side of the airlock door. There was a translucent screen before him and a bright light behind it, glimmering through the fog of the heavy atmosphere. Kosh's massive encounter suit stood empty and dark to one side.

Sinclair had never been convinced that Kosh needed any of it. The Vorlons liked their privacy and their mystery to an obsessive degree.

He addressed the wall in front of him, his voice coming out from the mask flat and breathy. "Ambassador, five humans have come to the station. They claim to be from a place called the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and they have identified this place as being within Vorlon territory. What can you tell me about these Twelve Colonies?"

There was no response.

He waited at least a minute, and then tried a different question, "Can you confirm the existence of this lost colony of Earth? I only want to know if I can believe them or not. If their story's true, I'd like to help them. But if I can't confirm there really was such a place, then they're just Earth Alliance citizens without proper identification and there's not much I can do."

There was a long pause and then a whooshing sound. Sinclair tried to watch, but it was too fast: one moment the encounter suit was empty and the next it was occupied. The lights flashed on the translator device at the front and the mechanical voice said:

"The children come home."

Not exactly an answer that Earth Dome would like, but he felt he understood. "So it's true. Thank you, Ambassador." He bowed his head and turned to go.

"Sinclair."

Surprised, he turned back. "Yes?"

"The circle closes. Be ready."

Sinclair took a step closer, despite himself. "For what?"

"All this happened before, and it will happen again."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Kosh what he meant, but he realized he knew. He closed his eyes, memory flashing of a strange alien named Zathras pinned under a fallen beam on the time-lost Babylon Four, saying he had a destiny.

He had rejected that, almost automatically. He believed in free will, not predestination. But there, standing before the Vorlon, the pieces fell into a pattern. He remembered being a prisoner on the Minbari flagship at the Battle of the Line, seeing Delenn's face. They had held him and they'd let him go. Then the Minbari had surrendered -- the religious caste had nearly caused a civil war forcing the military to surrender.

Because of him? Because of something he was? Because of something he was supposed to be?

Fear was suddenly an ice block in his chest. He could only look at Kosh's suit, toward the top where the vision iris was and presumably Kosh's head somewhere behind it.

"Ambassador, what is my destiny?" he asked, afraid of the answer and just as afraid there wouldn't be one.

For the longest moment, there wasn't.

He was preparing to leave, when the cold, ominous mechanical translator said, "Into fire. Storm. Darkness. Death."

Sinclair took a step back, away, a sense of sheer panic rising in his throat, strangling him. Asking had been a terrible mistake.

Kosh ordered, "Go."

Sinclair was just as glad to obey. He put the mask back with trembling fingers, and went out into the corridor. The gravity was all wrong -- he was too light and the elevator seemed too far away.

He leaned against the solidity of the wall gratefully and closed his eyes, taking careful breaths and trying to calm down.

It didn't change anything, he told himself. The cryptic Vorlon prophecy had any number of possible meanings, none of which made any difference to his life, right now.

No, right now, he had some visitors to meet and a job to do. Prophecy would have to take care of itself.

===============

On the other side of the wall, the Vorlon Ambassador listened to Sinclair's thoughts, content with their shape and how he refused to let fear rule him. Then he reached out to gently brush the minds of the children who had come home.

Such sorrow. Such pain.

He mourned for them. But there had been no choice.

They would lead the way.



go to PART 3





Comments always welcome! *g*
Tags: , ,
 
 
 
shara50: hot leeshara50 on March 13th, 2007 10:23 pm (UTC)
Very, very cool. This is very interesting.
lizardbeth: Anders - Leelizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 03:47 am (UTC)
Thanks! Cool and interesting is always a plus. *G*
entertaining in a disturbing way: Kara Anders Peace SPOILERlyssie on March 13th, 2007 10:51 pm (UTC)
*falls upon chapter like ravenous wolf*

OH SAM. Groping Kara may not calm her down, but it will distract her. *loves you so*

lizardbeth: K-A Rapturelizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 03:53 am (UTC)
Ravenous wolf, hm? *steps out of the way*

But y'know, quasi-imprisonment is probably not doing good things to Kara's brain space, so he's doing his best...

And Hot Dog = Sam Guthrie? *snicker* Without the accent,yep.
(no subject) - lyssie on March 14th, 2007 04:01 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - lizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 04:17 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - lyssie on March 14th, 2007 11:55 pm (UTC) (Expand)
eradicating evil was always on my to-do listcerebel on March 13th, 2007 11:02 pm (UTC)
Awesome. And it totally sounds like the kind of thing Kosh would say...
lizardbeth: Anders - Leelizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 03:56 am (UTC)
Thanks. That Kosh is a tricky cryptic dude, isn't he?
Agent Provocateurdaera23 on March 13th, 2007 11:36 pm (UTC)
totally intrigued. love the dynamic between Kara and Sam - him calling her on the militaryness by holding hands - her cutting through the crap and admitting they aren't in the system

looking forward to more.
lizardbeth: Kara-Anders IIlizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 03:59 am (UTC)
Great, thanks!

They do work well together, don't they? *squishes Sam and Kara*
entertaining in a disturbing way: Mom Dad PIRATESlyssie on March 13th, 2007 11:59 pm (UTC)
*reads again*

You know. Hot Dog totally IS the Sam Guthrie of Galactica.
Raprap541 on March 14th, 2007 12:35 am (UTC)
Excellent. not a huge babylon 5 person but i can follow. good stuff. more please. :D
lizardbeth: Sharonlizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 04:04 am (UTC)
YAY! thanks a bunch! I'm trying to write it so it's accessible to non B5 watchers or those who haven't seen it in years (like, um, me, until a very recent rewatch), so I'm glad to know it's working. As we get further from both canons it's going to matter a lot less anyway...
pataka02: pic#59175358pataka02 on March 14th, 2007 01:46 am (UTC)
This is fascinating... I can't wait to read more. And the Sam/Kara makes me so happy.

Maybe Sinclair and Kara can start up that band about their special destinies. Or a support group.
lizardbeth: Anders - shirtlizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 04:06 am (UTC)
lol! The Special Destiny Band! *snicker* But a support group is definitely in the works. Cuz, they need one. Destinies Anonymous! "Hello, my name is Kara Thrace and I have a special destiny..."

Thank you!
(no subject) - pataka02 on March 15th, 2007 05:10 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - lizardbeth_j on March 15th, 2007 04:59 pm (UTC) (Expand)
The Lady Lucilla: BSG--Zarek - Anti-Adamatheladylucilla on March 14th, 2007 02:18 am (UTC)
Wonderful! I'm glad to see more of this. *grin*

So the Vorlons know about the Colonials.... very intriguing!

Looking forward to more.
lizardbeth: Zarek - dear Ronlizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 04:10 am (UTC)
hee. Thanks!

And oh yes, the Vorlons know about the Colonies. Well, the Vorlons pretty much know everything anyway, but they certainly know about the Twelve Colonies. And there will be more, definitely.
stellawindstellawind on March 14th, 2007 06:13 am (UTC)
This? Is beyond awesome. I hope to give you something slightly more helpful next week, but right now I'm too busy squeeing over finding this.

You have made my week.
lizardbeth: K-A Rapturelizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 04:55 pm (UTC)
I'm glad you found it! Thanks!
My way of staying sane: kara and candlesmamaboolj on March 14th, 2007 05:41 pm (UTC)
I am *so* hooked on this story! This is just great. Can't wait until the next installment.
lizardbeth: Helolizardbeth_j on March 14th, 2007 08:21 pm (UTC)
Thanks for the encouragement! The full scale of what I'm doing sort of hit me last night. A WIP? What the FRAK was I thinking? *panicky flailing* lol
mrsdrjackson: w00t!mrsdrjackson on February 27th, 2008 05:34 am (UTC)
And the plot thickens! More please?

"Sinclair."

Surprised, he turned back. "Yes?"

"The circle closes. Be ready."

Sinclair took a step closer, despite himself. "For what?"

"All this happened before, and it will happen again."


Aaaand my head explodes again. *g*
lizardbeth: Delennlizardbeth_j on February 27th, 2008 10:35 pm (UTC)
bwahahahahah!

sadly there is only about 2000 more words in existence in draft. I sort of lost my mojo for it trying to figure out an actual plot beyond the cuteness of getting the two crossed. :(
(no subject) - mrsdrjackson on February 28th, 2008 01:52 am (UTC) (Expand)
Allison: love at first sightfrolicndetour on March 4th, 2008 10:47 pm (UTC)
Oh. Just. I. Okay, how to give dispassionate FB without saying RITE MOAR MOAR MOAR YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME YOU CANNOT LEAVE IT THERE I WANT I WANT a bunch of whiny crap about how much I want to see the scene with Sinclair interrogating them and Kara et.al. meeting Londo and/or G'kar and/or Delenn and/or Kosh? This was such a treat. I haven't watched B5 in years, and you really brought me to that world and those characters. Incredible.

Ok, so, you don't really need a plot! I just want MOARRRR more stories set in this universe. You could leave out the Shadow War. Or not. Just ... you've blended the universes so well, this deserves to be expanded upon. :D

Maybe this means I should try reading some B5 fic - apparently I miss it more than I thought!
lizardbeth: Sinclairlizardbeth_j on March 5th, 2008 06:54 am (UTC)
*pinches your cheeks for being SO CUTE!!!* thank you. And feel free to root around in my website, it's all Sinclair-focused (though set at various points, and sometimes the focus is in his absence) if you want more. it's all quite old now - but still pretty good, IMO.

Perhaps (though mind you I make no promises, for S.4 is coming) after my various fic commitments are over, I will at least finish off the next part that's mostly done. Can't have lyssie be the only one who's read it, that's not fair, is it? *g*
mayireadtodaymayireadtoday on January 8th, 2011 11:34 pm (UTC)
Fantastic line: "The children come home."