londo_mollari: (HopefulLondo)
Hmmm. Let us just say that the incident in question happened when I was not exactly in the best condition anyway, yes? One of my hearts had betrayed me, as it was prone to do on a regular basis, though I usually do not end in medlab as a result. I truly detest the place, and have spent years trying to persuade Dr. Franklin to redecorate, but does he listen? No. I would even offer donations from the Centauri Republic, but he would undoubtedly spent them on better lab equipment. Ah well.

During the incident in question, I was at least spared contemplating the blandness of my surroundings. I had a series of rather bizarre dreams, involving Delenn, Sheridan, Vir and naturally the bane of my existence, G'Kar. The late Emperor Cartagia had a cameo appearance, as did the equally late and equally unlamented Lord Refa. And let us not even mention quite a lot of empty glasses. Subtlety was not, as my friend Mr. Garibaldi might put it, on the menu that night.

(He, strangely, was absent from the dreams, as was my dearest Adira, and any of my wives. Do not ask me why; perhaps the glare of G'Kar kept them away.)

In any event, I was faced with the convoluted mess that you could call my existence, with certain decisions I made, and with words I had never spoken, to anyone. I had a choice, then. This I believe to be true. I could have died that night, and maybe that would have been better, for it would have ensured that a certain dream, one quite different from these, will never come to pass. I was seriously tempted, I must admit, but then I heard Vir declare it would not be better. I asked him why.

"Because," he said, "I would miss you."

"And I suppose," I said, "I would miss you."

With that exchange, I turned around, and faced you can guess whom. At that point, we had made our peace, or so I believed. But in the dream, he was as angry as he used to be, as harsh... and as true. And I found out what I had to do.

Understand this: being trained as a courtier and a diplomat, I am well-versed in the voicing of insincere regrets. But an apology, a true apology, is a very different matter. It means the acknowledgment that your deeds were wrong, not just misguided, but wrong, that everything you used to tell yourself about your reasons and justifications was no more than the prettily decorated sheath of a sword, hiding the deadly steel within. It means the admittance that all the blood you shed will not be redeemed by your goal, that it will never leave your hands, not in this lifetime or the next.

It will not surprise you that I had never apologized to anyone, yes?

But I did that night. It was harder than anything I had ever done before, and death had never looked so tempting. Or so wrong. I said the words, and then I woke up, and there he was as well, not alone as in the dream, but standing next to Vir, so I knew I was awake, and I said them again to be sure he heard them. Compared to what had made them necessary, they might not be much, but to me, being able to speak them had meant overcoming a harder opponent than all the madmen in and out of politics the galaxy had to offer.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry... G'Kar."


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July 2010

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