Babylon 5: Feelings of Unreality
Title: Feelings of Unreality
Genre: Babylon 5
Written: 11/12/96 (Written after viewing The Hour of the Wolf. The story itself takes place after Za'ha'dum, and during the latter half of The Hour of the Wolf.
My body walks around the station, faces each morning after a sleepless night, goes through all the motions, but it's not me. My spirit is no longer in my body. I see everything as if it were happening to someone else, someone I do not know and have no connection to. I stand outside myself, watching all of this, but I can't feel it. Not yet. Because if I let myself feel the loss, let myself accept that this is real, the pain and grief will tear me apart.
*****
Damn him! I should have known he'd do something like this. How could I have missed what he was planning? I should have expected him to pull some foolhardy stunt that would get him... I should have gone with him, should have done something, anything... I should have known....
And Michael. What was he doing out there? In a goddamned Starfury! I needed him here. I should have known he wasn't here. Should have kept him from going out there and just vanishing. No battle, no trace, no sign of what happened or where he is. I should have prevented this. I should have done something...I need him here.
*****
I can cope. I've been trained to cope. I've known all along that any one of us might be called upon to give their life for the cause, for the greater good. Funny. I always thought that "any one of us" would be me. Never one of them. Some things hurt to much to think about before they happen. Which only means they'll hit harder and hurt more when they finally do happen. I've been trained to cope. So why can't I?
I know why. Because coping would mean accepting that they're dead. That they're gone and they're never coming back. It would mean dealing with their deaths and moving on. Coping would mean that I'm alone. And I can't accept that. Not yet. I'm too afraid.
Hah. That's a laugh. The tough, fearless Commander. More afraid to live than to die. So why isn't it funny? There's a war on. Everyone knows it now, not like before, when every move had to be made in secret. Thousands of people must be praying, wishing, wanting, hoping only to live through it. Yet here I sit. Able to calmly contemplate the fact that I may die in this war, may be called upon to give my life for the cause, but scared to death by the fact that I might survive it. Alone. Scared of being the sole survivor. That's a role I know too well. One I won't play again. I'll go through the motions. I'll do my duty, do the job I was trained to do. I'll do the job, because it needs doing, and because I owe it to them. To their memory. I'll do the job, play the role of the survivor. But my heart will have died with them. Like I should have.
*****
I told Lyta Alexander that the wolf and I are on a first name basis, that I'd been living in the hour of the wolf for seven days now. And I have been. But it goes deeper than that. I am afraid. Not that I will spend the rest of my life in the hour of the wolf. I know that even the sharpest pain fades in time, and the longest hour comes to an end. What I fear is worse than that. For the wolf wears the face of the future, cold and bereft. Her eyes are emptier than any I've ever seen. The same eyes that look back at me from the mirror every morning. She scares me more than anything I've ever faced in my life. And what I fear is that I am becoming her, or she is becoming me. Because the wolf's name...is also mine.
END.
Genre: Babylon 5
Written: 11/12/96 (Written after viewing The Hour of the Wolf. The story itself takes place after Za'ha'dum, and during the latter half of The Hour of the Wolf.
My body walks around the station, faces each morning after a sleepless night, goes through all the motions, but it's not me. My spirit is no longer in my body. I see everything as if it were happening to someone else, someone I do not know and have no connection to. I stand outside myself, watching all of this, but I can't feel it. Not yet. Because if I let myself feel the loss, let myself accept that this is real, the pain and grief will tear me apart.
*****
Damn him! I should have known he'd do something like this. How could I have missed what he was planning? I should have expected him to pull some foolhardy stunt that would get him... I should have gone with him, should have done something, anything... I should have known....
And Michael. What was he doing out there? In a goddamned Starfury! I needed him here. I should have known he wasn't here. Should have kept him from going out there and just vanishing. No battle, no trace, no sign of what happened or where he is. I should have prevented this. I should have done something...I need him here.
*****
I can cope. I've been trained to cope. I've known all along that any one of us might be called upon to give their life for the cause, for the greater good. Funny. I always thought that "any one of us" would be me. Never one of them. Some things hurt to much to think about before they happen. Which only means they'll hit harder and hurt more when they finally do happen. I've been trained to cope. So why can't I?
I know why. Because coping would mean accepting that they're dead. That they're gone and they're never coming back. It would mean dealing with their deaths and moving on. Coping would mean that I'm alone. And I can't accept that. Not yet. I'm too afraid.
Hah. That's a laugh. The tough, fearless Commander. More afraid to live than to die. So why isn't it funny? There's a war on. Everyone knows it now, not like before, when every move had to be made in secret. Thousands of people must be praying, wishing, wanting, hoping only to live through it. Yet here I sit. Able to calmly contemplate the fact that I may die in this war, may be called upon to give my life for the cause, but scared to death by the fact that I might survive it. Alone. Scared of being the sole survivor. That's a role I know too well. One I won't play again. I'll go through the motions. I'll do my duty, do the job I was trained to do. I'll do the job, because it needs doing, and because I owe it to them. To their memory. I'll do the job, play the role of the survivor. But my heart will have died with them. Like I should have.
*****
I told Lyta Alexander that the wolf and I are on a first name basis, that I'd been living in the hour of the wolf for seven days now. And I have been. But it goes deeper than that. I am afraid. Not that I will spend the rest of my life in the hour of the wolf. I know that even the sharpest pain fades in time, and the longest hour comes to an end. What I fear is worse than that. For the wolf wears the face of the future, cold and bereft. Her eyes are emptier than any I've ever seen. The same eyes that look back at me from the mirror every morning. She scares me more than anything I've ever faced in my life. And what I fear is that I am becoming her, or she is becoming me. Because the wolf's name...is also mine.
END.