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The Shadow War is over. We won.
To call what’s happening in the Zocalo right now a party, would be quite the understatement. I’m keeping to the sidelines, content to observe more so than partake.
John and Delenn are doing the same from their vantage point above the crowd. They’re happy. It’s a guarded kind of happiness, but it’s there. I observe them for a minute or so, before the pang in my heart and the guilt I feel for it make me turn my gaze away.
Stephen’s dancing with a woman I’ve never seen before and will likely never see again. It’s a kind of levity I’ve never really possessed. But even if that weren’t true, it would long be gone by now.
I spot Marcus, some fifty feet away, and consider ducking away before he sees me, but I’m too slow for that. Our eyes meet. He doesn’t actually do anything. He doesn’t come over, he doesn’t even make any kind of gesture. But I can see the hope in his eyes.
“Only those whose lives are brief can imagine that love is eternal. You should embrace that remarkable illusion. It may be the greatest gift your race has ever received.”
Lorien’s words keep echoing inside my head.
I smile at Marcus, a smile that I know isn’t reaching my eyes. We both know it for what it is – an apology.
Because I can’t.
And I don’t even know whether it’s because my illusions have long been shattered. Or because they haven’t.