From: "TEMBWBAM" Subject: Shadow and Reflection (From the Library of Dreams, 2259 Edition) Date: Wed, 8 Apr 1998 10:30:02 +0000 What follows is an attempt at a brief Babylon 5/Sandman crossover. Not sure if it's been done before, or whether it *should* be done...anyway, enjoy. It's set somewhere during Season 2, and shouldn't contain anything much of a spoiler nature. DISCLAIMER: None of the below characters or settings were created by me. All belong to their respective copyright-holders (either J.M. Straczinski (and heaven help me if I've spelled that wrong) or Neil Gaiman), and are used without permission, but without malicious intent. "Shadow and Reflection" by Brennan M. Wion "The Corinthian was not meant to be a reassuring dream, Matthew." - from The Sandman: The Kindly Ones. And you are sitting at a table, in what the proprietors would like to describe as a cafe, a quaint little touch of home away from home. You reflect that, if you made your home in a cesspool, even then such a description would be a criminal exaggeration. Fortunate, isn't it, that you're not here for pleasure...as your associates take every opportunity to remind you. "He'll come," you whisper in response to their insistent questions. "He owes too much to us..." To us, you say, as though you were anything more than a middleman. "...to not come." You attract little attention, though it is obvious that you're waiting for someone. That's why, in fact. Everyone else is waiting for someone, too. And yet...a young man, younger than you, is approaching your table. A human, not the Centauri you are awaiting. He looks like you, a bit, apart from the smoked glasses he wears. Your associates are silent. He stands just aside from the empty chair at your table, saying nothing, just...looking. At you, and at the empty spaces around you. Finally, in an irritated voice, you speak. "Yes? Is there something you want?" He still says nothing, but he turns to look squarely at you. A glare plays across his dark glasses, and you see...a pale figure, propped up in a seat, one who has clearly been dead for some time. Held upright by black strings which reach up...up to where you can see only shadow...you realize that you're seeing a reflection, and your lips begin to form a question, the one question you can never ask..."Who..." He speaks. "You don't want to know. Who I am or what I want. You don't want to know." And his hands move to his face, to remove his glasses, revealing... You sit bolt-upright. No trace of the young man. "Sorry...must have dozed off..." you murmur to your associates. "Where *is* he?" And then a shadow darkens your table. "Ahh, my good friend Mister Morden..." says the Centauri. "Terribly sorry for my inexcusable tardiness...state business...you understand..." And in a quieter voice, "Eyes are everywhere." Not everywhere, you almost mutter. "Now. To business..."