DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to JMS, Babylonian Productions, PTEN, WB, and probably others as well. Suffice it to say the only original thing here is my manipulation of the characters from Babylon 5. Feel free to use this story for any personal purpose, but if you want to post it on your web page or use it in any other manner (i.e. other than reading it yourself), please ask for permission.

Copyright 1999 by NODA
noda@ballcom.com

Story Notes: I often wondered how Garibaldi managed to get back into Sheridan's "good graces" so quickly after the incidents on Mars. This is my version of what might have happened, told from Michael Garibaldi's point of view. WARNING: Possible spoilers through most of the fourth season.

*REPARATIONS*

I've been avoiding him. Not that it's been difficult. With things heating up and the fleet moving closer to Earth, it's unusual that I see Sheridan. Even at a distance. But I dread the time we meet in a hallway. Both of us intent on our destinations, then suddenly looking up, seeing the other. He'll stare at me with accusing eyes, we'll mumble some form of greeting out of practiced courtesy, averting our eyes as we continue on.

I think his silence eats away at me more than anything. I think he knows that. I wish he'd threaten me. Lose control, slam me up against the bulkhead of the ship; vent his frustrations and anger in the form of a fist to my gut. It certainly couldn't hurt worse than the knots that haven't left since Bester filled in my missing memories. Revealed what I'd done. Talk about living a nightmare.

Sure, I helped Stephen and Lyta liberate him from the interrogators, but who's the one who set him up in the first place? What's that old phrase? "Too little, too late?" And Lyta. What would I have done without her there to corroborate my story? Stephen was skeptical, and the resistance fighters had even less to gain by hearing me out. She's the one who saved my ass; I should be worshipping at her feet. Instead all she got was a head full of my shit that she has to contend with too. So, here I sit, in the small mess area of one of the White Stars, nursing a cup of coffee as I try to ignore the stares and whispers.

Delenn walks in, glances at me, moving to join a group of Minbari two tables away from me. The only seat left faces my direction. Even though I know she would rather take on a Shadow vessel than have me in her line of sight, she takes the chair anyway. She discusses something with the crew, quietly, in Minbari, but she can't help her eyes wandering back to me from time to time.

I pretend I don't notice, focusing on some object across the room, but I can see her out of the corner of my eye, practically scowling as she glances in my direction. A look on her face as if she's ingested something that's left a bad taste in her mouth.

She stands, crossing the room quickly, her robes whirling around her, giving me one last disdainful look. Lennier is in her wake, as always. I can tell he's torn how to react to me. Surely he feels as outraged as the rest, but there's a part of him that's still my friend. He inclines his head slightly towards me. Not a bow of respect, merely one of acknowledgment. I'm grateful for that; at least one person on this ship hasn't glared at me or pretended I don't exist.

I can't say that I blame them. Hell, I'd be doing the same thing in their place. Probably worse. If someone would have crossed me like I had Sheridan, I would have worked them over but good. Led with my fists and asked questions later. I guess that's why Bester chose me. Like he said, he didn't have to implant an new personality within me. I had all he needed the whole time. All I required was "a nudge in the right direction." That's what scares me the most. That I'm that close to being more than a little paranoid. That all this was in me to begin with; all it needed was a little push. . . .

Something's up. I can feel it, and my instincts are seldom wrong. Something to do with Mars from the few words and phrases I've gleaned overhearing the crew. I know they're purposely being quiet around me; they don't want to take the chance that I'm still in league with the enemy. What better way to infiltrate their ranks than to pretend I'm remorseful and I'll do anything to clear my name? Trouble is, I am remorseful and will do anything to clear my name, but not for the reasons they suspect. They were my friends, my family. To be the recipient of the looks they now send my way hurt worse than being shot at close range with a PPG.

I have no illusions about why I'm on this ship. They can keep their eyes on me here while they put the next phase of their operation into motion. Kind of like house arrest. Again, I can't blame them, but it doesn't make it any easier to take.

Taking a sip of my lukewarm coffee, I look up as a figure walks through the door. He looks like hell. Dark circles framing his eyes; uniform hanging on his under-nourished body. His wounds are beginning to heal, but several bruises are still evident. Sheridan locks unemotional eyes on me; he's been through too much for my presence to faze him.

He joins a group of Rangers, discussing their role in the up-coming mission. I can't take it anymore. I have to talk to him, to know where I stand; his ignoring me is driving me nuts.

Knocking back the last of the bitter liquid in my cup, I approach him from behind. He knows I'm coming, probably due to the change in expression on the Rangers faces, or maybe he's developed some kind of sixth sense where I'm concerned. Just before I reach him, he turns around.

"You'll excuse us, Michael, this is a private conversation."

I nod, starting to back away, then suddenly I'm moving forward again, causing the Rangers to reach for their pikes. There's no mistaking the message they're sending me.

"Captain, please. I need to talk to you."

Sheridan sighs. "This really isn't a good time." His voice is strained, obviously trying to keep his temper under control.

Pushing my luck, I continue to press the issue. "This is about Mars, isn't it? I can help you! I know that planet better than any of you."

Smirking at my arrogance, Sheridan leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "And you really think I would believe a word you say, Michael? Although, I suppose I could listen, do the exact opposite, and come out ahead."

I know I deserved that, but all I want to do is wipe the smug looks off all their faces. I can get into places even the Rangers can't.

"Captain, just give me five minutes. Please." I watch as he contemplates his options. Somewhere there must be a part of him that still trusts me, at least enough to hear me out.

"Okay, you've got five minutes." Looking to the Rangers he says, "Gentlemen, will you excuse us, please?"

The Rangers are slow to remove themselves, then, taking up defensive positions around the room, their eyes watch my every move.

I take a seat across from him. Now that I finally have his attention, I don't know where to begin. Rubbing my hand over my face I chance looking him in the eye. He's staring at me, waiting for me to speak. The hard glint is there, as if daring me to try and apologize for what I've put him and the fleet through.

"John, I know there's nothing I can say to make up for what I did to you, or what happened as a result, but you have to know, I wasn't myself. Bester. . . "

"Don't give me that shit, Michael! When would Bester have had the chance to mind wipe you? You wouldn't have let him near you long enough for him to try!"

"It happened when I was missing from Babylon 5, but you were too busy being dead on Za'Ha'Dum to know about that." I tried to check the bitterness in my voice. He couldn't help the circumstances of that time any more than I could. Besides, antagonizing him wasn't going win me any points. Taking a deep breath, I tried to sound calm and reasonable, explaining how Bester accomplished his goal.

"You were more erratic," Sheridan agreed, "but it was still 'you.' Not like what happened with Talia."

"They didn't override my personality," I told him. "Seems I have all the ingredients for suspicious paranoia right here," I said, tapping my head. He gives me a small smirking smile. Enough to let me know that I'm not far off the mark on his assessment of my personality.

"So, what is it you want from me? Absolution? Because you're not going to get it. Not now anyway. You're damn lucky I don't take this out of your hide, or let them do it," he says, nodding to the Rangers.

"I know, I know," I mumble, looking across the room to avoid looking at him. "You think I don't know what I did makes Judas look like a rank amateur? I knew when I gave Edgars the information what he'd do with it, but it was like I couldn't help myself. Part of my head was screaming how wrong it was and the other part screamed louder that it had to be done. I thought you were out of control and I was going to be the savior of Earth because I stopped you. The minute Bester filled me in, I knew what I'd done."

"But you just told me that Bester didn't implant an altered personality within you. Are you saying you still feel this way? That I'm some sort of megalomaniac bent on taking over the Universe?"

That was a tough one. Did I think he believed the rumors he was destined to be the leader of a new order? To be honest, yeah, sometimes I thought he took his role a little too seriously, but admitting that wasn't going to help my cause.

"I think everyone loses their perspective from time to time," I say. "Obviously I lost mine."

He stares at me. I don't know if he's assessing my words or contemplating how he's going to beat the crap out of me.

"So, what is it you want from me?" he asks again.

I swallow, then speak. "Let me in on what you're planning for Mars."

He's silent for a moment then starts to laugh. "You really think after all that's happened I'd trust you with that kind of information?"

"I don't want just the plan. I want to be there."

Sheridan laughs again, wagging his finger at me. "You've always been a joker, Michael but I didn't think even you had this warped of a sense of humor."

"John, listen to me!" I say as I grip his forearm to keep him from leaving. The action causes him to immediately tense as he remembers the last time I touched him in such a manner. At my contact with Sheridan, the Rangers move closer, suspecting I mean him further harm. I quickly remove my hand and hold it up, proving to them all that I have no hostile intent.

"Why should I trust you? After all that's happened, if our positions were reversed, would you trust me?"

"No, I don't suppose that I would," I admit. "But you're not me," I half smile.

"How do I know that you don't have some residual programming that even you don't know about? After all, you claim you didn't know you were under Bester's influence before."

"Look, let Lyta or one of the Minbari telepaths scan me. They'll show you I'm telling you the truth! Let me do this, John. I know more about Mars than anyone else you've got. You know the last thing Bester said to me? 'You can try to tell the others what happened, but under the circumstances I doubt that anyone would believe you.' Don't let Bester be right. Don't let him win."

He considers my words, my request. "Better the Devil you know than the Devil you don't, is that it?"

"I guess that sums it up."

There was a tense silence as I witnessed another weight being placed upon him.

"Of all the things you could have asked of me, Michael, to trust you with a mission of this importance is the hardest. It's not just me you're going to betray this time if you're lying. But the whole fleet. Earth, Mars, Proxima. Everyone. Everything we stand for. This is a pivotal maneuver. If this goes wrong, our entire strategy will crumble.

"I don't have the luxury of trying to ascertain if you're telling the truth. At one time I would have trusted you with my life. With the life of anyone in the Army of Light. Now, I don't know if I can trust a word you say, let alone your actions. But you're right, you do know Mars better than anyone we've got. I guess I have to hope the gamble pays off." He sighs, handing me a data crystal.

"It's all here. Review it, then meet the Rangers in the shuttle bay. We're out of time."

I clutch the crystal in my fist, overcome with emotion that he'd give me this chance after all I've done.

"Thanks, John. I won't let you down."

He rises, clasping his hands behind his back, unconsciously taking a military stance. "See that you don't, otherwise there won't be a rock in this galaxy that you can hide under that I won't find you."

I don't take his threat lightly. Nor do I believe things are right with us. Perhaps they never will be. But maybe helping him secure Mars will be a step in the right direction. I hope so.

The End

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