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It was funny. They thought a straitjacket and prison cell could contain her, as if she weren’t beyond physical surroundings, as if she couldn’t end Sheridan’s life with a single thought. Maybe he was immune to her direct abilities, but she kept herself busy entertaining all the ways he could go. It could be an assassin under her control, played off as an enemy to his transparent politics. Or maybe it would be an oxygen malfunction in his quarters. That one would take Delenn, too, slowly and painfully.
Oddly, the thought made her shudder rather than smile. Could she smile, anymore? Even back then, in the days Psi Corps kept her imprisoned, Kosh’s song lifted the corners of her mouth and filled her with a warmth long unknown. Now, no matter how far into herself she searched, she only found darkness. Every ember, every glow that sung out her name was gone. It was like trying to grasp onto water. He faded, becoming less and less as she became more and more.
What would he think of her now? No longer an innocent human to foolishly adore, but a monster made by his own people. She was only ever supposed to be a vessel for him, and a weapon for their war. Stealing agency over herself drove everyone else away. They all wanted her to be a stepping stone to stomp on and forget in the currents behind once they got to the other side.
Maybe he would’ve been different. Maybe they could’ve been everything together, unstoppable and infinite.
But she’d never know, because the Shadows killed him.
And the humans killed her.
She looked down at the straitjacket. She knew she had a heart beating beneath there somewhere, and gills under her tight collar. The straps and walls weren’t the things actually imprisoning her, were they? But she’d known that all along.