I Am Become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.

Centauri were bent on justice. He knew what was coming to him and knew there was no escape, not this time. Because they were gone. His constant shadows, who had been with him for the past five years, had been cruelly destroyed by those who did not understand.

Strangely enough, Morden missed them. Not only for the protection they gave him, but for the lulling sense of security and peace with which they filled his mind. When he was with the Shadows (as these unenlightened Centauri called them) the emptiness in his mind was filled. No memories of his wife, his daughter, that terrible, terrible accident...

He shuddered as the memory replayed itself for the thousandth time. He thought all of this was behind him, why else had he joined the Shadows so easily but for the redemption of his own soul? A redemption that came at too high a cost. For the lulling of his own pain, empires had fallen. Chaos and anarchy had swollen from the fetid roots on Z'ha'Dum and spread across the galaxy like a festering wound. Through him.

But that wasn't the worst of it, no. The worst had been the revelation of what a monster he had become. With a mere suggestion, the Narn were destroyed. And it had only taken a suggestion to betray his one friend in the universe, Anna Sheridan.

Thinking of what they had shared on that doomed trip, the part of Morden that was still human wanted to cry. They had shared so much, they had become each other's only hope. As things continued to spiral downwards and Morden and Anna began to realise they would never leave the world alive, they had reached out to each other. Held hands through those dark, dark tunnels, fleeing from the Shadows. Even their minds had touched in beautiful harmony, as they shared, an unbreakable bond arising from the horrors they were enduring together.

Had they survived, Morden knew that he and Anna would have remained friends. She was like the first sunshine in his life after the long, long winter of darkness and pain that began the day his wife was taken. She gave him hope again.

Such fire, beauty, was Anna Sheridan. A woman with the universe at her feet. Brought down by his failure. His weakness to not stand with her against the Shadows, knowing he would die or at least lose his own soul for all time. So he'd given in.

He watched, calmly, as they took her screaming, placing her into one of their machines and raping her mind. It hadn't been pretty. Only the thickness in his own thoughts, the gentle, soothing voices that eradicated the pathways of pain that made Morden the man he was, prevented him from caring enough to do anything.

And then Anna — the woman he had known for only a short time but already loved - was destroyed. Nothing more than an automaton for one of their many ships. Morden told himself over and over that what he did next, he'd done for her own good, but when it came down to it, he'd been selfish, and in the process, betrayed the human race.

The years had passed and the Shadows moved slowly, always watching, always waiting. Morden was their ticket into the places they could not travel alone, his secret companions that never left, not even when he slept. If he made even one indication that he did not believe in their goals, completely and fully, he knew he would have only moments to live.

But in those first days, it had been almost fun. The Shadows gave him back the confidence - almost an audacity - from his youth. And those damning words! "What do you want?" Remembering the early days, Morden almost smiled. He had wandered places where those with power walked. Delenn, who was known to be a threat from early on. Sinclair, Ivanova and Garibaldi, who quickly rose to powerful positions through their location.

Coming face to face with John Sheridan, however, was something that Morden had never anticipated. Nothing in his outward appearance changed, even as Sheridan had locked him away and made empty threats. Morden knew the Shadows would protect him.

Staring at Sheridan, Morden had remembered Anna, whom he had pushed from his thoughts for so long. He studied her husband, wondering if this impertinent, obsessive man was really worthy of her love. At that point in time, there was nothing very remarkable about John Sheridan.

Naturally, it had to change. A web of events seemed destined to snare the universe into patterns of coincidence that were all too common. Whispers reached Morden that Sheridan was becoming a danger to everything they stood for. The Shadows hated what Sheridan had become and needed to take him out. But they couldn't kill him. No, they had to seduce him, get him to listen to the other side; to turn him would give them the greatest power of all.

And that was when Morden told the Shadows who Anna really was. Even now, Morden winced as he recalled the stinging slap his mind had been given for suppressing the knowledge for so long. The Shadows were not pleased. They retrieved her as soon as they could, but by then the damage had been done. Only the smallest iota of the original Anna remained, the rest had become part of the great machine of Shadowthought.

Seeing her again brought a smile to Morden's calculating face. He had set her free and in doing so, he had redeemed himself for his past sins. Or so he liked to tell himself. He never considered the impact her presence would have on the growing war, he didn't want to know that he was betraying his own kind. He and Anna, agents of the Shadows, would bring the truth to them all.

Of course, it never turned out like that. By sending Anna to Babylon 5, by bringing Sheridan back with her, it had destroyed them all. She wasn't the real Anna and Sheridan knew it. Knew it so much that he crashed a ship loaded with nuclear warheads right on top of them, and tried to kill them all.

Anna.... Morden would never, ever forget her scream as the world exploded around them. Her last moments, filled with pain, because her husband was about to kill her along with himself. How Sheridan survived the blast, Morden never knew. When the Shadows had pulled Morden's crumpled body from the wreckage of the ruined city, he had known he was the only living thing within miles.

They should have left him there, Morden reflected. The pain he had endured afterward as they repaired his body, bit by bit, layer by layer so that he resembled a walking monster - was still with him. And with his saving came the knowledge that Morden belonged completely to the Shadows. They had rebuilt him, they owned him.

And now, for the first time in several years, they were gone. Soon, Londo would have him killed. Morden shivered, remembering Vir's eerie prophecy of long ago...head on a pike as a warning...they wouldn't really, would they?

In his heart, though, Morden knew the Centauri were capable of anything. And he knew he deserved it.

That didn't change the fact that he wanted to live, though. Or the fact that he was very, very scared. He had been invincible, he had been Morden, the destroyer of worlds, Morden, the untouchable, Morden, the walking dead.

Perhaps he should be grateful that it would soon all be over. As he closed his eyes, he tried to imagine his wife and daughter. Their images hovered in a far off place, he couldn't reach them. "I'm coming home soon..." he tried to tell them but they didn't listen. They just gazed sorrowfully into the distance, then turned their backs and walked away.

"No!" Morden burst out, his eyes snapping open to the ever-present darkness of the fetid cell. He couldn't go through this alone, he couldn't. It wasn't fair, he had never meant to become such a pawn in the great game giants played in one small corner of the galaxy. He hadn't meant to betray his own kind and destroy the futures of so many sentient beings across the galaxy. He never wanted that at all.

But when it came down to it, had he fought? Had he ever really contested the Shadows and tried to present a different point of view? The only answer was no. Morden had served, and he had served well. Now look where it had gotten him.

He was a mess. Completely gone was the cool, collected shell of a man who took everything in his stride. The facade was broken the moment the Shadows were gunned down and Morden looked up, to see Londo's sneering face. There was nothing left but the fear, and Morden was all alone.

A tiny sob escaped his lips as he leaned his head back in despair. What wouldn't he give to see the sun one last time. To feel again, to really breathe, to be in full possession of his own senses and block out the deadened part of his mind. If only someone would understand. There would be no tears over his passing, there would only be celebrations and laughter that, finally!, the monster responsible for everything had been destroyed.

But that wasn't him. Morden closed his eyes and Anna's face appeared before him. "Anna," he whispered. She was the only one who knew what he'd been through, for she had shared in that darkness. Together, they had become corrupted and twisted versions of themselves.

Maybe she would wait for him on the other side. Maybe she would forgive him for the terrible sins he had committed. And maybe, just maybe, she would take his hand again and promise him hope.

It was the last thing Morden had to hold on to. He heard a noise in the corridor, the rattling of the latch on the door. Morden swallowed hard. He would not go out whimpering and crying, no matter how scared he was. He would face the Centauri with defiance, with strength, and would go down in history as the sweet-faced monster, the destroyer of worlds.