A Day Late 1: Blind
Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.
Delenn jerked upright, gripping the edge of the narrow tilted bed. She'd almost fallen out again. She'd never fallen out of bed, not even as a child. Her ability to balance, once natural and simple, had been lost. She sat on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for the trembling to stop. Every night since he'd left, she'd woken up like this; falling, falling, endlessly falling, never reaching the ground. Waking in a cold sweat, every limb trembling from the effort to keep herself from falling; every night ended the same way. Vertigo, Stephen had diagnosed, and given her a prescription. Try a horizontal bed, Susan had suggested, scoffing at her unspoken fears. Lennier had scoured the Minbari shops on the station looking for healing teas and folk remedies. Nothing had helped.
She called out softly, 'Lights low', and the small triangular prism on the table by her bed emitted a soft white glow. Her quarters on board the White Star were spartan by any standard, but the simplicity appealed to her at this point. She felt as if her life had been pared down to its essence. There was one goal, one aim, one battle left to fight. The small voice that whispered in the night of revenge was ruthlessly silenced. Her whole life had been spent in preparation to fight Shadows; and fight them she would. The fact that John was lost only strengthened her resolve.
The days that she had spent on the station afterwards, numbed by grief and hiding from the overwhelming pain and guilt, were behind her. Stephen had shown her the recording John had made, and she had taken his words as a sign; that she was to make her own attempt on the Shadow's homeworld, to follow in his footsteps. Summoning the Rangers and setting their mission had been easy; the harder part had come when she had told Susan of her plans…
"You're going to do what?" her friend, now commander of the Babylon 5 station, base of their operations, had expostulated.
"They have been severely weakened," Delenn continued patiently. "We saw the damage, and it was extensive. Only their automatic defenses were left. A crushing blow at this time may take Z'ha'dum from them permanently."
"We know they have bases scattered throughout the galaxy; those ships will return and destroy your fleet, just before they come here to destroy us!"
"They will come anyway, Susan, you know that." Delenn's voice was flat and devoid of emotion.
Susan Ivanova looked down at her desk, John's desk. She'd had to use it, she had no office space close to C&C and she needed a place to work. The work was overwhelming. So far everyone was holding their breath, waiting for definitive news. The station continued to function, and the chain of command was holding, but she felt she was holding it together by a thread. Alliance members were pulling out their ships, and some diplomatic delegations were also leaving. Everyone was going home to wait for whatever was coming. Now Delenn was going too.
"I will leave you a small contingent of White Stars, and one of the Minbari war cruisers. We will return as soon as we can, Susan."
"If you do return. But thank you for leaving us some protection. We've always been sitting ducks here, and there won't be many Alliance ships left at the rate they're leaving."
Delenn's lips met in a thin line. "They are cowards, and fools. They cannot run from the Shadows."
"Maybe not. Maybe they just want to die at home." Susan sighed, "I'm not sure I blame them. When do you leave?"
"I hope to convince a few members of the League to come with us. Perhaps a week, no more. We have to strike quickly to have any hope of succeeding."
Susan looked thoughtful, "Could you loan me a White Star in the meantime?"
Surprised, Delenn said, "I suppose so. I would need to know why."
"I'd like to take another stab at locating some First Ones. It would still be a good idea to have them on our side in this. We don't know if they even know what's going on…"
"Or if they find it any of their concern." Delenn spoke in clipped tones. She didn't necessarily approve of this quest. Still, it could do no harm. She wondered at Susan's being willing to leave the station at this critical time, but decided that was her friend's business. "Marcus will accompany you. You will need him to translate for the crew."
Susan smiled tentatively, "Actually, I've been teaching myself Minbari..." She paused at the impatient look on Delenn's face.
"You will take Marcus. Ours is a difficult language, and there is no room for error in command." Delenn's tone indicated no further discussion was required, or desired.
Nonplussed, Susan wondered privately at this new, harder version of the Minbari ambassador. Delenn had changed; it was as if she no longer bothered with diplomatic niceties, and barely with the politeness expected of friendship. Her whole focus was her mission, and while her strategy had a distinct appeal, Susan had a station full of people to protect, as long and as well as she could. Her mission was a different one.
"All right, I'd like to leave as soon as possible. Can you brief Marcus, and have him and a ship ready by this afternoon?" asked Susan briskly.
"Of course," replied Delenn. "I plan to speak with Lyta next. I have gotten no answer from the Vorlon ambassador regarding our plans. This is unacceptable."
Susan refrained from showing her surprise. Delenn's attitude towards even the Vorlon had changed. "Let me know what she says. I'd be interested in their reaction to all this."
"So far it has not been promising," Delenn said grimly. "I rather think we are on our own in this."
"Great," muttered Susan. "Just great."
The situation continued to deteriorate. Lyta admitted that the Vorlon had received Delenn's messages, with no response forthcoming. She agreed to try and find out what was going on with Kosh. Susan and Marcus left on their quixotic quest. Zack Allan left the station to follow up a lead on the missing chief of Security. Then the Brakiri ambassador confided to Delenn that there was a movement brewing to prevent her mission to Z'ha'dum.
That afternoon, Delenn sent Lennier to reconnoiter and find out more about the putative protest meeting. Honestly, there wasn't much the League could do other than influence others to stay away from her venture. The Rangers would pay no attention to them; they listened only to her. They had also listened to Sheridan when he was here to command them…but of course they had. She indulged herself briefly, remembering the early days of their working together against the common enemy. John had the aura of a leader, and the Rangers responded to him, even without her directive to obey his orders as they would hers. It had warmed her heart to see their response to him; they had fulfilled her every expectation. John had as well, and more. Dashing the useless tears from her eyes, she answered the incoming call from Lennier. The meeting was on.
Susan returned from her journey just in time to witness the end of the riot in the Zocalo. Fighting had broken out on the floor below the balcony, and Delenn and Lennier were in the middle of it. Lennier had disabled several people in the crowd who had attacked Delenn, and they, along with the Minbari ambassador had been taken to MedLab with minor injuries. To Susan's surprise and joy, the injured were joined by Garibaldi, who had been retrieved by Zack from a life pod jettisoned by a raider ship. That was the only piece of good news she'd received that day. She'd met with Lyta, letting her know what she and Marcus had found hidden in hyperspace. The following morning, Susan called them all together to exchange notes.
"A fleet of Vorlon ships, hidden in hyperspace," said Lennier doubtfully.
Susan nodded, looking to Marcus to back her up.
"Vorlons, definitely. A bloody awful lot of Vorlons," he agreed.
Lyta chimed in, her voice strained, "They plan to take out all the planets that are touched by Shadow, willingly or not. We've told you what they've done already."
Susan watched carefully as Stephen reiterated his disbelief at the destruction of so many sentients by their erstwhile allies, and Garibaldi remained aloof and silent, apart from the group. Delenn looked stunned but not surprised; her response perhaps subdued by the injuries she'd suffered in the riot.
Finally, Susan spoke loudly to quell the discussion which was veering towards incoherence, "The question remains. What do we do?"
"My plans remain the same. I will take the Rangers to Z'ha'dum. If we strike a mortal blow at the Shadows, perhaps the Vorlons can be persuaded to cease this purge," Delenn stated authoritatively. "Lennier will accompany me. Marcus may make his own choice on where he would best serve the Anla'Shok. I would ask Lyta for her assistance, if she is willing. She has faced the defense systems at Z'ha'dum before."
Lyta said quickly, without meeting anyone's eyes. "I'm afraid that Ambassador Kosh would not allow it."
Marcus looked over at Susan, who said dismissively, "I'd be glad of your support, but I'm sure Michael and I can handle things, with Stephen's help. Your choice." Privately, she hoped he'd stay. It was selfish of her, but she still felt the trip to Z'ha'dum was going to be one way, and she'd grown…accustomed to Marcus. Keeping her face carefully schooled in a neutral expression, she realized in shock that she would actually miss him if he left.
"Oh, I rather think I'll go along with my fellow Rangers on this one. Never been to Z'ha'dum, and it seems this might be my last chance." Marcus was leaning against the arm of Lennier's chair in the office where the meeting was being held.
The Ranger's tone was cool and distant, but Lennier at least, noticed his hand, resting on the back of the chair, clenching and unclenching, as if to relieve some hidden tension.
"Very well, then." Susan kept her voice steady, hiding her disappointment, and her own surprise at the depth of her emotions. "When will you leave?"
"Today. There is no longer any reason to delay. No more ships will join us, and every minute we wait, they are reconstituting their defenses. We leave this afternoon." Delenn stood and bowed towards Susan. "I will speak with you upon our return. We will be maintaining com silence until we near our target."
Susan made a formal bow in return, then said abruptly, "Be careful, Delenn. Don't let your emotions blind you. In battle, it can be dangerous."
For a moment the old Delenn showed through in an amused look and a half-smile, "Excellent advice, my friend. Easier given than followed, however." With a swirl of her robes, she left the room, followed by Lennier and Lyta.
Marcus paused for a moment, and turned back to Susan to say, "I hate good-byes, don't you?"
Susan replied, "So, I'll see you when I see you then." Marcus nodded abruptly, and left.
Garibaldi peeled himself off of the wall where he'd been leaning during the conversation. "That's one hopeless mission."
Stephen broke in, questioning, "Don't you think they'll make it?"
"No," Susan said softly, "I don't." She turned to Michael and said, "We've got a station to run. Let's get to work."
The next day, John Sheridan returned from Z'ha'dum.
Susan was in C&C when the alert came. Incoming ship, unknown configuration; that was bad enough. The last thing they needed right now was a first contact situation. When the alien ship used their own code frequencies to activate docking procedures, she hit the direct link to Security requesting a fully armed security team go to the docking bay immediately. Racing through the corridor to the turbo-lift, she cursed her luck. Things had actually calmed down a little once Delenn and her happy band of suicidal Rangers had left the day before. A pang of guilt hit her as she realized she'd consigned Marcus to anonymity among the crew in Delenn's fleet. She was already in the process of writing him out of her life. Once inside the car, she smacked the button for her floor hard, trying to mask one pain with another.
Exiting the car at a dead run, she almost collided with Garibaldi and Zack coming down another hallway in full body armor, followed by half a dozen security guards. Gesturing them to stay behind her, and telling them to hold their fire until they were certain the new arrivals were hostile, she cautiously approached the arched opening to the docking bay. The transport was just locking into place, and she could only see vague outlines of two figures through the frosted glass. It wasn't clear enough to tell what species or how many of them exactly were in there. Running through first contact procedures in her head, she braced for the unexpected as the door slid open.
"Well, I'll be damned," she heard from behind her.
Mentally, she heartily echoed the sentiment, wondering whether this was some ploy by God to kill her with kindness. She stood motionless, mouth open, as her commanding officer, who had been presumed dead, walked slowly towards her, accompanied by a tall silent alien of a type she'd never seen before. He stopped about three feet away from her.
"Susan."
Her mouth closed, then opened again, but no sound came out.
"Susan, it's me."
This time she managed a response, "So it seems." After what seemed an eternity, she added, "Damn, John, what happened? Where have you been?"
"That's a hell of a welcome," he said, although he softened the words with a smile.
When he smiled, suddenly she knew it really was him, somehow, back from that horrible place. Smiling back, she impulsively embraced him, hoping to hide the welling tears. "Welcome back," she said, hoping no one could hear the tremor in her voice.
"Susan, stand away from him."
Susan heard the hostile note of command in Garibaldi's voice, and stepped away from John, turning to face the Security chief. Noting with alarm that he had kept his PPG rifle trained on Sheridan, she demanded, "Michael, what's wrong with you? Stand down!"
Garibaldi, never taking his eyes off Sheridan, answered her. "What makes you think this is really the Captain? From what you told me, he should be dead. You told me he was dead! And who's this with him?"
"I don't know yet! We'll find out soon enough. Now stand down!" Susan glared at Garibaldi, and pointed to the rest of the security team behind him. "That's an order, Mr. Allan…all of you. Weapons down. Stand at ease."
The other guards looked uneasily at her, then back at their chief, but lowered their weapons. Garibaldi did so also, but he kept his rifle aimed in the general direction of the two arrivals. He jerked his head to the other guards, and said, "Let's escort the Captain and his friend to Commander Ivanova's office. Fall in behind them. Stay alert."
Susan shook her head in exasperation. She had counted on Garibaldi to back her up, not challenge her directly in the first crisis. "Good idea, Mr. Garibaldi." She ordered two of the guards to lead the way, and two more to follow, then added, "The rest of you return to your duties."
Garibaldi looked her in the eye and said, "Are you sure about this?"
"I'm sure. Now let's go somewhere a little more private. We have lots to talk about." She strode off after the guards. Sheridan fell into place beside her, which left Garibaldi to escort the alien. He darted short suspicious glances at the stranger sideways. All he got in return was an unblinking, condescending stare.
By the time they reached Sheridan's office, Garibaldi was seething inside. When he'd returned, he'd spent hours in MedLab with Stephen, getting checked out physically, mentally, and emotionally. He'd been questioned over and over again as to where he'd been, and why he couldn't remember anything that had happened. Sheridan walked in from a nuclear holocaust with an unknown alien and his miraculous return was taken on faith. He'd never had much use for faith. Garibaldi resolved to keep an eye on the both of them. Susan was in over her head, and wanted someone to take back command, that was obvious. She'd always had a soft spot for Sheridan anyway. He was somewhat mollified to see Stephen hastening towards them in the hallway. At least she'd had the presence of mind to call in the doctor.
Stephen didn't know what to expect from Ivanova's hurried call. Hope and anxiety warred in his mind, but he calmed down as he clicked over to physician mode. It was always easiest to deal with a crisis in this deliberate and carefully cultivated neutrality.
Approaching the conference room door, he looked down the hallway, beyond the guards to see Ivanova talking earnestly with the Captain, or someone who looked a hell of a lot like him. He barely had time to notice the strange alien with Garibaldi, or Garibaldi's barely concealed hostility, or Ivanova's glow of happiness, before he reached the group.
"Stephen, it's good to see you."
It certainly sounded like Sheridan; that air of casual confidence and personal warmth. "It's frankly astonishing to see you, Captain. I'll need to look you over…"
"After I find out what's been going on here, Doctor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. So do I."
The debriefing was quick and shattering. Sheridan had simply walked behind his desk, resuming command without a word said or permission asked or granted. Garibaldi was standing apart, taking a break from his divided surveillance of the Captain and the alien only to exchange a worried glance with Stephen. The doctor held up a hand, palm outward, trying to let Garibaldi know he shared his concerns but wanted to take it slow. Stephen was anxious to examine Sheridan, but the more the man talked, the more convincing he was. When Ivanova told them of the Vorlon fleet, and the planet-killers they had used, Stephen noted a glance exchanged between the Captain and the alien he had introduced as Lorien. Both seemed more disappointed than surprised by the news. He hoped he'd have a chance to examine Lorien as well. He'd never seen another alien like him. Running through the xenobiological classification system he'd learned in school and later modified for use on the station, he tried to determine what kind of system the alien came from. His attention was brought back to the conversation abruptly as Sheridan suddenly asked, "Where's Delenn?"
Ivanova sat up straight, and answered directly. "Halfway to Z'ha'dum by now. With a fleet of White Stars behind her." At John's look of dismay, she said quickly, "There was no stopping her; not after what we saw of the planet when we got there…"
Sheridan interrupted her, "You went there? Who went, and for God's sake, why?"
Ivanova quickly explained her journey with Delenn and Lyta, and, without going into all the personal details, the effect she had seen in Delenn, and the aftermath. Sheridan shook his head, as if trying to adjust his thinking, and said, "This changes things." He glanced over at Garibaldi and said, "Did you know about this? This attack mission?"
Garibaldi shrugged, "I've been away, as you've heard. I was in the last meeting before Delenn left. It didn't seem like a bad idea, going after them while they're down. Might be a chance she could do some damage."
"She'll get herself killed, and it won't work in any case." Sheridan quietly. He looked over at Lorien, "I'll have to stop her." The alien nodded without speaking, and Sheridan continued, "I have my own ideas about how to end this, and attacking Z'ha'dum isn't part of the plan. Are there any White Stars available, Susan?"
"Delenn left three to protect the station, along with a Minbari war cruiser. You can't be serious about going after her…she has almost a day's head start! We can't contact her; she's engaged silent running protocols. If you get there in the middle of a battle, we risk losing both of you!" Susan broke off, as a thought occurred to her, "John, before we decide anything, Stephen needs to take a look at you. You don't want to go into detail about what happened to you, I get that, but there are things we need to know."
"No problem." Sheridan was curt, but smiled at her to take the edge off. "The Shadows didn't interfere with me, Susan. Stephen can confirm that for you. But I don't have much time; I have to stop that fleet. I'll need every ship I can get for what I have in mind, and losing most or all of them on an attack on Z'ha'dum just won't cut it. I need you to call a meeting of the League, in an hour. I'll convince them to get their ships back here. Be as discreet as you can; I don't want anything getting back to the Vorlons about this." He looked around at them, and barked, "Let's go, people! Stephen, I'm with you." He walked out of the room, with Lorien trailing after him, and Stephen hurrying to catch up.
Susan stared after them, then looked over at Garibaldi, who was chewing his lower lip in concentration.
"Michael, what do you think?"
"Sure sounds like the Captain. Acts like him too. I don't like the looks of that alien though…what's his story? And how in hell did Sheridan survive a nuclear blast? That just isn't possible!"
Susan looked at him pointedly, "There are a lot of mysteries right now we can't answer. We can either follow his lead or not. I don't have any bright ideas of how to get out of this mess, but getting the League ships back would help protect the people here. I'll go along with that. And Stephen will let us know if he's been physically changed."
Garibaldi broke in, "What if the change isn't physical? What if they won him over?"
"Not a possibility," Susan said coldly. "For God's sake, Michael, get a grip. Let him go after Delenn. She'll deal with him. If he's been co-opted by the enemy, she'll be able to tell."
"I don't know, Susan," Garibaldi rubbed the back of his neck worriedly, "You know, they say love is blind…will Delenn only see what she wants to see?"
"Suspicion and paranoia can blind you too, Michael. I don't know if you've ever understood that." She stared out the door, "I think it's him. I feel it, in a way I can't explain. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. You keep an eye on him, and Lorien as well while they're here; it's good policy. For now, I'm following the Captain's orders. I have a meeting to set up." She left the room without saying any more.
Things were quiet on board White Star One. Delenn had taken as her command vessel the very first White Star commissioned. It was the one she had first shown John, the one they had taken to Ganymede, and just over there was by the main viewing port was where he had first kissed her. It was a test, she thought to herself. If she could stand being on board this ship, with all its memories, then she would be able to finish the mission. That was all that remained to her, finishing the mission she had set herself, to destroy the homeworld of the Shadows. Looking around the bridge, she saw Rangers and non-Anla'Shok Minbari working together, as if they were one unit. Lennier was at the communications station, monitoring any messages making their way through hyperspace. She had chosen to stay silent, with only vital communications allowed between ships; hopefully it would give them some advantage as they approached Z'ha'dum. Only two telepaths were aboard her ship, and two apiece on the other White Stars. The two Minbari cruisers had three each. She wished Lyta had come. It was perhaps for the best; the human was well-meaning, but her connection with the Vorlons made her automatically suspect. She was glad that Marcus had chosen to accompany them, although part of her wished that he would have spoken to Susan and settled things between them before he left. There might not be much time remaining for them. Glancing over at Lennier, she caught him observing her. He smiled and nodded, and she found her heart warming at his obvious concern. Lennier was the one constant in her life these days, the one she could always rely on to stay by her side.
While she was watching her aide, the alarm on his com system lit up and sounded a long low bass note. Startled, Delenn stood and walked over to examine the panel of lights that Lennier was moving his hands over, trying to discern the source of the broadcast message.
Lennier explained, "It is the Ra'sh ta'al Quith, Delenn. It is being broadcast throughout this area of hyperspace, and it seems to originate from a White Star, on our course, but several hours behind us."
"Can you tell from where the ship set out?" she asked intently. There were a few White Stars still patrolling, outside of those in her fleet, and the ones she had left behind to help Susan guard the station.
"No, but if we let them get closer, I will be able to identify which ship it is." Lennier continued to manipulate the control panel in an attempt to gain the answers she sought.
"Did they not give their designation in the call?" Delenn tried to consider all the possible implications of this inopportune distress call.
"No, they did not, and that is extremely odd now that you mention it. Still, they are far away, and perhaps with the vagaries of hyperspace communication, they wanted to keep the message to the minimum required. We are obligated to answer…no Anla'Shok would send out such a call unless it was of vital importance." When Delenn did not respond immediately, Lennier wondered at her hesitation. Surely she was not considering going ahead, without offering aid and assistance? "It is a matter of honor, Delenn."
Finally, Delenn nodded, "I suppose we must wait and see who they are and what they want. Slow the ships to cruising speed, and allow them to catch up with us." She said to Lennier, "Contact me when they get close enough to open a link. Find out who they are, and Valen help them if it is not a serious matter. I will not be delayed for minor problems." She walked quickly to the open doorway leading off the bridge. Lennier stared after her thoughtfully.
Marcus had arrived on the bridge just as Delenn was leaving. The Ranger bowed to his superior and said, "Entil'zha," in respectful salutation, but received no response. Walking over to Lennier, Marcus observed the pattern of lights for a moment in startled surprise. "Someone is sending out the Ra'sh ta'al Quith? Who is it?"
"We do not know at this time. Delenn has slowed our speed to allow them to approach. They will be close enough soon to communicate more than just a signal, and close enough to identify soon after that. They seem to be moving quite quickly," answered Lennier. Then, hesitantly, and drawing Marcus aside so they could not be overheard, he said, "I am concerned about Delenn."
"And well you should be! She's been acting strangely ever since, well, ever since it happened. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised. They had apparently become quite close," said Marcus, trying to allay Lennier's concerns without rubbing in the painful fact of Sheridan and Delenn's relationship.
"I know that, of course. But she actually considered ignoring the distress call! She is obsessed with getting to Z'ha'dum and destroying it. What if, in the process, she destroys all that is herself?" Lennier's voice was strained, betraying his tension.
"I think you're overreacting. She's picked a course of action and is pursuing it. It's a desperate chance, but it is a chance. Better than waiting for them to come and blow us out of the sky." Marcus' tone was light, but his eyes were haunted. He was well aware that Babylon 5 was a target high on their enemy's list.
"I know that, but she's changed so much. She brooks no dissent, has no patience for delay…it is like all the warmth and happiness has drained out of her." There was a hint of sadness now, and perhaps some resentment.
"Is that so surprising?" Marcus considered his friend carefully, wondering how far to take this line of conversation. "She has lost a great deal."
"I know what she has lost!" Lennier's voice rose, and with difficulty he controlled himself and continued in lower tones. "She does not appear to be thinking clearly…this mission is not wise, or well thought out, in my opinion."
Just then the comscreen lit up with an incoming message. Lennier looked down, and sucked in his breath in surprise.
Marcus leaned over to see what was disconcerting the Minbari, and exclaimed, "What the hell?" He looked at Lennier, and declared, " I'll fetch Delenn. Best keep this quiet until we find out what exactly is going on." He hesitated, then asked, "Should we show her this in private?"
Lennier thought for a moment, then said, "No. Bring her here. It will be harder for her, but the crew deserves to know about this as well."
Marcus stared at him, "Do you honestly think she would keep it a secret?"
Shaking his head, Lennier answered quietly, "I do not know what she will do. And that is what concerns me."
When Delenn reached the bridge, the crew was quietly going about their business. Lennier, however, did not greet her, and did not meet her eyes. This was so unlike him, that it only added to her suspicions. Marcus' demeanour had been elaborately casual when he came to tell her she was needed. She took her seat, and said, "Well, what is this problem that demands my immediate attention?"
Lennier looked at Marcus, who took up a position next to Delenn. "We have received a message that followed the distress call. It is being broadcast on a frequency used by the White Stars, and presumably emanates from the same ship." He passed one hand, then another over the panel of glowing crystals. A holographic image appeared in the center of the bridge, directly in front of Delenn in the command chair. The two navigators seated ahead of the image, turned back to stare at it as they heard the words echo across the small area:
"This is Captain John Sheridan, commander of Babylon 5. I need to speak to any Anla'Shok vessel in the vicinity that can hear this message. Respond with your location on this frequency, and I will approach at best speed. This is an urgent call from Captain John Sheridan, please respond."
Lennier had not taken his eyes off Delenn, and he saw that Marcus was watching her closely as well. There was a long silence during which Delenn did not move or speak. Her face alabaster-white, and as immobile as stone.
Finally she said calmly, "I see. Let the vessel approach to within firing range, and destroy it."
Marcus started to protest, then Lennier broke in, "There was a coded message attached to this one on a sub-frequency. It is from Ventarr, who identifies himself as Anla'Shok captain of White Star 17, one of the ships left behind to guard Babylon 5. Shall I play it?"
Delenn didn't even look at him, "Go ahead."
Lennier moved one control lever, then touched a glowing blue crystal. A voice emanated from the panel in front of him; there was no accompanying image.
"Anla'Shok Ventarr, White Star 17. I wish to assure those watching that I have ascertained to the best of my ability that this is indeed the same human who went to Z'ha'dum, and that he speaks as himself. He has returned and requested our help in an urgent mission. I repeat, this is Anla'Shok Ventarr…"
"Shut it off."
Delenn's voice was cold and stark. She rose from her seat, and spoke to the air, "Lennier, Marcus, please join me in my quarters. I wish to discuss this turn of events with you."
The others on the bridge carefully keep their faces still, but the concern and curiosity was palpable. Lennier beckoned to one of them, indicating he should watch the com panel for more messages. He instructed the Minbari Ranger. "Let me know immediately if there is another attempt at contact."
Delenn had already left, but Marcus lingered to speak hastily with Lennier. "Will she fire on them? If there are Anla'Shok aboard?"
"As I said before, I no longer know what she will do. That has never been a problem in the past." Lennier shook his head. "'Understanding is not required, only obedience.' So we are taught in temple, but what happens when we understand, and cannot obey? When obedience conflicts with honor?"
"Do you think it's really the Captain? If he's been corrupted by Shadow, and has to be killed, what will that do to her?" asked Marcus.
"If it has to be done, it will be done. I would do it myself to spare her…" He broke off at Marcus' grim nod of agreement. "I would hope we can stop them short of that, but…" he hesitated. "This is difficult. I have come to doubt the wisdom of our mission, but had determined that obedience was the best course. Now I am flooded with doubt, and can no longer see my way."
"I'll help the best I can, but I'm as lost as you are. We are the blind leading the blind, I'm afraid." Marcus stepped up his pace, as Lennier moved ahead of him.
"Then let us hope our discussion shines a light on the path ahead," Lennier said solemnly.
They reached Delenn's quarters, and let her know they awaited admission. It took a few minutes for the door to open, and both of them wondered what she was doing in the interval…praying? Cursing the fates? They were unprepared for what they saw as they entered.
Delenn had set up a formal tea ritual, on a low ceremonial table set in the center of the floor. They entered, made the required ritual greetings, and seated themselves, cross-legged on the floor. She joined them, and poured the tea into five porcelain cups, white with a flush of pink inside. After the ritual offering of one to Valen, they all took a sip, and lowered the cups. Silence fell over the group.
"What are your thoughts?" asked Delenn finally.
Marcus looked down at the cup in his hands, but Lennier spoke up. "Do you think it is really Sheridan?"
Delenn said carefully, her voice controlled and level, "It could be, partially." She gently set her cup back down on the table.
Lennier replied, "Ventarr believes it to be him, and apparently unaltered by the enemy. It would be good to know what has convinced him of this."
Marcus shifted uneasily, then interjected, "What is the fifth cup for?"
"For the honored dead," answered Delenn calmly. "I have set it out at every ritual meal since…"
"Since he went away," asked Marcus gently.
"Yes," she answered.
"Then you think he is dead, that this message is from some sort of Shadow thrall or impostor?" asked Lennier.
"No one returns from Z'ha'dum!" she snapped at Lennier. The words tumbled out. "We know that, we have always known that! They would not let him go, and he would not work for them voluntarily and so it cannot be him." She stood abruptly and began to pace around the room. "They are using him against me the same way they used Anna Sheridan against him. They will pay for this, oh, they will pay! I cannot…I will not…" her voice stuttered to a stop, and she turned away, visibly trying to regain control.
Marcus said calmly, "I know Ventarr, served with him at one point. He knows the history of the Shadows as well as we all do. Yet he has been convinced this man is Sheridan. I think we should consider that he may be right."
Delenn was still facing away from Marcus, and he saw her stiffen as if she'd been struck. "That is not possible, Marcus. It's just not possible. We saw the planet, the destruction." Her voice trailed off, and she wrapped her arms around her own slim frame. Turning around, she asked Lennier, "What do you think, my friend? Could it be…could it be him?"
Lennier looked into his mentor's eyes, wide with a hint of panic behind them, and said, "I think we should wait until they draw near, and see for ourselves. We should send someone; I do not think we should allow anyone from that ship to board our vessel."
Delenn nodded. She looked for a moment as if she was recalling something, then her voice hardened once again. "Indeed we should not. Will you go, Lennier?"
It was hard to tell with the pale cast of Minbari skin, but Marcus thought Lennier blanched at the thought. That was a situation no one would relish; determining whether the lover of the woman you loved was back from the dead. What if he was an impostor, and Lennier found he had to kill the man, or whatever he was? "I'll go," he said abruptly. "I'm human, and I know Sheridan as well as anyone. And I know Ventarr; I'll be able to talk to him privately and see why he thinks this man is Sheridan."
"Thank you, Marcus." Delenn inclined her head, her attitude cool and controlled again.
Lennier watched her carefully. He stood, and approached her, coming to a stop in front of her.
"Did you have something else to say?" she asked coldly.
"I am sorry to ask you this, Delenn, but have you attempted the Aia'sa'dum?" Lennier spoke carefully, keeping his voice neutral.
She raised her chin, and said, "It is none of your concern what rituals I perform, is it?"
"No, it is not. I ask only in consideration of our friendship, which you referenced before." He kept his eyes focused on hers, evaluating her response.
Delenn returned to the table where Marcus had remained seated, and took her place, picking up the cup with her cooling tea. "Would you like some more tea, Marcus?" she asked, clearly changing the subject.
Marcus, uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking, asked, "Forgive me, Delenn, but I have never heard of the Aia'sa'dum. Would you take pity on my ignorance, and tell me what the ritual entails?"
Silent for a moment, but unable to refuse a civil request for information, Delenn answered evasively, "It is a Warrior caste ritual, and involves meditation and prayer as most of our rituals do."
Marcus was working out the translation of the unfamiliar phrase in his head, "And it means Heart's End? Or something to that effect? What is the purpose of the ritual?"
Looking steadily at the table, Delenn answered, "Warriors sometimes find themselves in a situation where they have been wounded, physically or psychologically, but still have to act. They can restrain their feelings, shrink them to the point where they become bearable, and so enable themselves to continue with their mission. I have found it helpful recently."
Marcus asked hesitantly, "This is a temporary thing, right? I mean, once we are past the crisis, you will be able to go back to how you were?"
"I have changed, that is the way of things. Besides, is it important?" Delenn spoke matter-of-factly. "This is a desperate mission, and I need to focus on it. My personal feelings are inconsequential in comparison with our goals."
"Separation of heart from mind can be dangerous," Lennier stated. "It can lead to error, and the inability to correctly judge a situation."
Delenn's hand tightened on her cup, and suddenly it cracked in her hand, driving shards of sharp ceramic deep into her hand. She absently looked at her bleeding hand, then picked out the larger pieces of the broken cup. She held her fingers outstretched over the table, and watched the blood drip from the cuts on her palm onto the tabletop. Watching them fall as if in echo to her dreams, she said, "I cannot afford to be blinded by emotion at this juncture. That error has already been made. I am attempting to correct it." She took the cloth napkin that Marcus held out to her, and wrapped her hand in it. "I need to act, not to feel. I have you two to help me judge this situation, although the final decision will be mine. Marcus, prepare a shuttle so you are ready to leave when White Star 17 is close enough for you to safely dock. I do not want to waste much time on this distraction. If this impostor is Shadow-tainted, he will attempt to learn about, and subvert our mission. That must not be allowed to happen." She rose, and indicated the interview was at an end. She remarked as they left, "It is possible that you may need to act quickly, Marcus. Take a personal link with a coded frequency that communicates directly with Lennier and myself. Be cautious. Take care."
A short while later, White Star 17 was close enough to receive a tightly focused short message, informing them what co-ordinates they should aim for, and to stop there and await a delegation from the fleet. No personal message was either sent or received in return. Delenn had ordered the rest of the fleet to move away, leaving her ship to confront the newcomers.
As the time approached for the rendezvous, Delenn remained in her quarters until the last moment. Finally she returned to the bridge and took her seat in the command chair. Marcus was in the shuttle bay already, on board with a Minbari pilot and two Rangers, prepared to depart when Ventarr's ship arrived. When the White Star appeared on the farthest edge of their screens, the tension began to mount. Delenn got up, and walked among the stations, speaking quietly with the crew members, reassuring them by her presence and calm demeanour.
Lennier watched her closely, but even he could see no evidence of agitation. This disturbed him greatly. She was at the forward navigation area when the com panel chimed and lit up with the incoming message. Lennier was occupied changing the code frequency setting so that he could receive the message, and so he missed her sudden start at the sound.
"White Star 17 is in communication range. Coding frequency has been sent and received; frequency will change at intervals set by protocol 9.2.9. Shall I put visual communications on screen?" Lennier looked at Delenn, awaiting her command.
Delenn waited for a split second, then answered, "Of course, Lennier. Open the link." She stood up very straight, and said to the empty air in front of her, "This is Entil'zha Delenn of the Minbari, commanding the White Star fleet. Go ahead."
The air wavered in front of her, and the image solidified into two people; a Minbari Ranger, presumably Captain Ventarr, and Sheridan. She bowed her head slightly to both, her eyes sliding past John's face, and coming to rest on the safety of the Ranger's image. "Captain Ventarr, we are sending a representative to ascertain the validity of this person's claims to be Captain Sheridan, returned from Z'ha'dum. His name is Marcus Cole, and he is Anla'Shok. I believe you may have met him. He will speak with you both, and then report back to me. Please extend him every courtesy, and in Valen's name, do not delay! We do not have much time. The longer we stay here, the more likely we will be found by the enemy."
"Yes, Entil'zha. I will be most glad to speak with Cole again. He was the best denn'bok fighter in our cohort at the Academy." He was approached from behind by someone, and said, "Excuse me for a moment." He turned away and was barely visible in the image. She had nowhere else to look, but at John.
"Delenn?"
It was his voice, the same deep husky voice she heard every night in her dreams, calling her name. Naturally, it would be the same. The structure of the vocal cords, the shape of his throat, and mouth, his lips; all were as they had been. She managed to look at him, or vaguely in his direction, and said coolly, "Yes?"
"I know this is hard, and that you can't be sure it's really me. I don't know how to convince you in any case, not this way, not at this distance. I'll speak to Marcus, tell him what happened. Maybe that will help." He paused and ran his fingers through his hair.
Delenn kept her face still. He was so very awkward and so very appealing. She raised her own hand to smooth her hair in an unconscious mirror of his gesture.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked, his voice suddenly filled with gentle concern.
"I..." she looked at her hand, still clumsily wrapped in Marcus' napkin, then held it to her breast. The bloodstains showed through the thin white cloth. "I cut myself. Earlier today."
"You should get that looked at."
He seemed to be concentrating on her injury; his hands fidgeting as if he wanted to be able to fix it, to do something, anything, for her. The small pieces of china that remained in the wounds grated together, biting into her flesh.
"It could get infected. Promise me you'll see the doctors after this."
She looked at him then, as if seeing him for the first time, and somehow choked out the words, "I promise."
"Good," he said simply, catching her eyes in his gaze, lingering there as if searching for some sign of recognition.
She was transfixed by a sudden flash of hope, a moment which threatened to stretch to eternity, when Ventarr returned to his side, and broke the connection between them.
"Cole's shuttle has docked, and he is being escorted to your quarters, Captain Sheridan."
"All right, let's get this over with." He turned back to Delenn, who was still holding her injured hand in the other one. "I hope to see you soon."
She couldn't help her reaction; warmth flooded her face, and she knew he could see her blush of helpless confusion. She suddenly became aware that she was surrounded by her own people, looking to her for guidance in this crisis, and that she was, once again, letting her emotions rule her head.
"Possibly, Captain, but not likely. I have other plans, and you have already delayed me more than is wise." Her voice had grown cold, and some distant part of her was pained to see the hurt in his eyes. She kept it at a distance, where it needed to be kept, and went on, "Tell Marcus we expect to hear from him within the hour. Make your case, but do not try to stop my mission. It would be futile to try." She looked back at Lennier, and said, "This conversation is over."
Marcus chatted casually with his escort on his way to Sheridan's quarters. He still had no clue what he was going to say to the man, and how he was going to tell if he was the real thing or not. Like many other difficult situations, it was probably best to play it by ear. Still, he found himself tensing as they paused outside the door to request admission.
"Hello, Marcus." John stayed seated behind the desk, but gestured towards a chair to one side. "Have a seat."
Marcus gathered up the ends of his long Ranger robe, and sat down, careful to leave ready access to his denn'bok. He scanned the room, locating doors and exits, and ascertaining no one else was in the room.
John sat back and smiled, "Go ahead and check the other room if you want. There's no one hiding in there."
Leaning back in his chair, Marcus said, smiling warily back, "I guess taking you at your word shows I've a preference for how this turns out."
John leaned forward on the desk, his hands flat on the surface, staring at the glistening steel as if he could find the answers to his questions etched on it, "Marcus, how is she?"
Marcus crooked one eyebrow, "How do you think?"
John said, frustration evident, "I don't know, do I? I want to go over there, and…well….Hell, I want to find out for myself! It feels like something's broken, in her or between us." He said, "I have to finish what's been started here, but it kills me to see her like this."
"Convince me you're you, and I'll convince Lennier, who's already halfway there due to his innate pessimism. We'll get her to meet with you, and you can make your case in person. It may be a while. After all, there's other little things to think about…the war with the Shadows, for instance…and the Vorlons newfound enthusiasm about it…and what the hell happened on Z'ha'dum!"
John straightened up and said, "You're right, but all I can do is tell you what happened, let you talk to Ventarr, and introduce you to…someone else that's involved." He went on, "I'm sorry, but there's no 'Made on Earth' sign stamped on my butt!"
Marcus had to laugh. "Please don't ask me to verify that! So, are you the one and only John Sheridan? If so, what the hell happened to you? I got back from Minbar to find you gone, everyone either in shock or despair…what were you thinking? Running off like that? Not that I didn't appreciate the grand gesture at the end. Quite the statement, nuking their homeworld."
John laughed, "I think I've missed you, Marcus! Everyone else is walking on eggshells around me. Susan's convinced it's me, but she's not sure why she's convinced. Garibaldi's suspicious, Stephen's accepting but confused, and Ventarr is treating me like the Second Coming!" He sighed, and began, "Let's get down to it." He laid out a succinct but fairly complete outline of everything that had happened after Anna had shown up in his quarters on the station.
When he'd finished, Marcus sat silently staring at him. Finally he said, "All right. That's a lot to take in at one time, and we don't have much time." He tapped his long fingers on the table in front of him, and said, "I want to talk to Ventarr now. Then maybe you can introduce me to Lorien. Why exactly did he come with you, by the way?"
"I…my condition is not quite stable yet. Lorien has to tag along for a while, to 'make corrections' is how he put it."
"What do you mean, not stable? Are you likely to fall down dead at any moment? Cause that would change my report considerably."
"I won't die anytime soon. Unless of course, the Shadows catch up with us and blow this ship out of the sky. Lorien's protection doesn't extend to catastrophic implosion."
Marcus looked at him shrewdly, "Anytime soon? Do you have an expiration date?"
Shifting uneasily in his chair, John looked at Marcus, "Can this stay between us, for now? I'm not sure how many people I want to know about it. I told Stephen, but he's bound by doctor-patient confidentiality."
"All right, I think I can promise that much. What? You do have an expiration date?"
"Lorien says I have twenty years." John said shortly. "That's all he could do with what lifeforce I had left."
The words lay there between them, chill and stiff with truth. Marcus swallowed hard, not wanting to think about Delenn's reaction to that piece of news. Luckily, it wouldn't be his job to tell her. The man across from him suddenly looked incredibly tired, and he found refuge from the stinging in his eyes in the first inane question that occurred to him. "So, you're a zombie then?"
John looked up, confused. "What? What's a zombie?"
Marcus raised his arms straight in front of him, wrists limp, hands hanging loosely down. He moved them up and down. "A reanimated corpse? The walking dead?" He stopped for a moment, then asked, concerned, "Not a vampire, by any chance? Cause that would cause the quartermaster some problems." He looked thoughtful, "I wonder if vampires have to stick to blood of their own species? I mean, other species from the same planet might work, but what about aliens? Might give 'em a tummy-ache."
"What are you talking about!" John roared in frustration. "I am not dead, not any more! I'm alive enough to wring your neck if you mention one word of this…"
"All right, all right. I guess death didn't improve your temper any." Marcus smiled briefly, then asked, "Could you send for Ventarr now? He's probably hanging about outside, waiting to give me his version, not that it'll change my report. Then I have to talk to Delenn. Her temper's not of the best lately, either. You'll make a nice match there."
John stopped for a moment, then said tensely, "You said it wouldn't change your report…have you already come to a decision?"
Marcus stood up to leave, and waited for John to stand too. "I decided it was you when the very first question you asked was about Delenn. I don't think the Shadows could fake that high a level of suppressed anxiety." He extended his hand, and said, "Welcome back to the land of the living. Now let's see if we can both manage to stay here a while."
That was when they felt the explosive force of incoming blasts raking the ship. As klaxons sounded and red lights pulsed their warnings, the two men looked at one another, and headed simultaneously for the door.
The Shadow vessel appeared seemingly from out of nowhere directly in front of White Star One. Lennier started evasive maneuvers, and Delenn directed the other vessels to attack. Two other Shadow ships slipped into view, separating Delenn's ship and White Star 17 from the rest of the fleet. The telepaths were rushed into position to begin jamming any messages regarding the fleet: their numbers or exact location. This proved difficult given they were still in hyperspace, and telepathic projection was both enhanced and diffused in that environment. After the first few chaotic moments, Lennier noticed something, and cried out, "The enemy is targeting White Star 17! The other ships seem to be concentrating on holding off the rest of the fleet, protecting the first attacker."
Delenn stared at the viewscreen. Lennier was correct. All the firepower of the first ship was directed at the other White Star. Her ship was just as close, but they were not taking any hits. As she watched, the Shadow vessel fired, and fired again, targeting 17's engines with deadly efficiency.
"Why would they target one ship only? What is on that ship…." Her voice faded out as the realization hit her. "It's John." Agony laced her voice. "They're after John." She whirled around and shouted to the pilots at navigation, "Put us in between them! Now!" She strode to the com station and opened a link to the fleet. "White Stars 11 and 23, break loose and come around behind the main Shadow ship. Coordinate fire on my command."
Lennier looked over at her from the weapons station where he had taken up position. "We're too close, Delenn. If we fire along with the others, and destroy the Shadow ship, we will be in the path of its destruction. The other White Stars will be firing through the wreckage at us. They can't get a high enough angle to miss us."
"Then perhaps we will die, Lennier. Is that what you meant to say? Our ships will cease firing when the Shadow vessel begins to break up. They are well trained; we must trust their instincts…and their aim." She took her seat in the command chair. Other ships in the fleet had drawn fire to themselves so 11 and 23 could slip into position. Delenn watched the screen, trying not to notice the fires breaking out all over 17, and said steadily, "On my mark….Fire!"
Jets of green and white fire poured from all three White Stars, pinning the Shadow vessel between them. The ship twisted and writhed in the beams, firing off bursts of purple rays which raked the White Stars.
"We are hit," said Lennier, keeping the pulsing bursts of gunfire aimed directly on the belly of the Shadow ship looming above them, even as sparks flew out of the weapons array under his hands. The pattern of oily black whorls on the ship's surface shifted and coalesced, like the ship was trying to wriggle out of the deadly pincers of fire. Finally, the Shadow vessel started to crumple and collapse into dust. The other White Stars cut their fire, but not quickly enough. A few final bursts hit the bridge; from friend or enemy it was impossible to tell. Delenn didn't even have time to glance at the screen before the world exploded in smoke and flame.
Marcus and John got to the bridge just after Ventarr, and found themselves for once observing rather than acting during a battle. It quickly became apparent that they were the main target, and John realized angrily that he was probably the reason. Apparently he was not the Shadow's favorite person right now. He watched helplessly as Ventarr smoothly maneuvered his ship to fire and dodge and fire again. They were hit, multiple times, but the last burst stopped them cold. The engines were out, and they were drifting with only minimal thrusters to shove them along slowly, and only in one direction. Ventarr looked back at Marcus, and shrugged, "I'd hoped we would have some time to reminisce, Cole. It seems it is not to be."
"You never know, Ventarr." Then he said abruptly, "What the hell is she doing?" Marcus pointed at the main viewscreen, where Delenn's White Star had appeared, taking up a position between them and the Shadow ship.
"Put me through to her, Ventarr! She can't make this work!" shouted John.
"Communications went down at the beginning of the attack. All we can do is watch." answered Ventarr calmly. "Entil'zha veni."
"Entil'zha veni," replied Marcus, eyes fixed on the unfolding battle.
John watched in horror as the Shadow vessel crumpled under the combined fire of the White Stars, showering Delenn's ship with chunks of debris. Then the last bursts of light from her fellow ships shot through the now-empty space and raked her vessel, tearing great holes in the organic skin of the ship, which spurted white hot gouts of flame.
The silence after a battle ends is all-consuming. Noise continues to fill the air; shouted commands, muted explosions, fires being extinguished, the moans of the wounded; yet it is silent, for the guns have stopped their deadly cacophony. It's as if the brain cannot process more noise, and shuts down its capacity to hear anything.
John walked around the bridge, lifting fallen equipment out of the way, shoving debris off of control panels, speaking with the crew. All the while he was stealing glances at the screen, watching for a shuttle or lifepod, listening for the chirp of a com link being re-established. He jumped when Marcus touched his arm and said, "Come on. Ventarr says the shuttle is undamaged. Let's go see what happened."
"What if their docking bay is inoperable?"
"Only one way to find out. We can always try docking with one of the other ships; maybe they still have com links to hers."
"But we've got no way of requesting access to the bays!"
"White Star shuttles have emergency back-up docking frequencies; no verbal or visual communications, but a simple SOS type request for access. Never used it before, but I'm assured it'll work," answered Marcus.
"Don't they need our help here?" John made one final token protest as he headed for the door.
"Unless you're a medic, or an engineer, I don't think so. They say it'll be hours before communications is fixed. I can't wait that long, can you?" Marcus said as he trotted to keep up.
"It already feels like I've been waiting forever," said John.
Aboard White Star One, the mood was eerily calm. The crew bent towards their repairs, setting the automatic systems to work, and clearing debris and tending to the wounded. Most of this was occurring in other areas of the ship. Delenn sat on the floor of the bridge behind the shattered weapons station. There were only a few people working on the bridge; and those were giving her space and time to herself. She noticed idly that her hand was bleeding again, but then, blood was everywhere, pooled on the deck, smeared across her dress, dotting her boots. She was waiting for the medics to arrive to attend to Lennier, who was lying by her side, unconscious. No one had seen what happened to him; and she was afraid to move him to see if any of the blood had come from him. So she waited. The other two Shadow ships had disappeared when the first one was destroyed. She was afraid they had taken the news back to some nearby base. Communications were still out, but a shuttle from White Star 11 had arrived with assistance. She had sent them on to 17 to see how things were there. Once she'd set everything in motion, she'd allowed herself the luxury of collapsing beside Lennier, trying to wait patiently, and to think.
It had seemed clear that the Shadows were targeting White Star 17 for a reason, and the only reason that made sense was that they were targeting John. She'd acted instinctively to save him. There was still a possibility that it was some sort of a trick, a ploy to get them to accept a spy, a traitor, into their councils. Hope had taken root in her and she was having trouble trying to remain logical in the face of its rapid growth. She shook her head, hoping to focus her thoughts. The air was finally clearing as the ship's ventilation system kicked in; and the mixed sweet and acrid smell of burning was fading.
Lennier woke to pain, and confusion. Lying prone on the deck, he found staring up at the ceiling extremely disorienting. As memory flooded back, he turned his head to seek out Delenn. He didn't have to look far; she was sitting beside him, a little apart. Her knees pulled up under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs, she looked like a small child lost in thought. Pain lanced through him as he moved, and he couldn't entirely stifle a soft moan.
"You are awake." She was looking at him now, slightly anxious, mostly pleased to see him conscious.
"I am. Are you hurt? What is our condition?" He attempted to look around the bridge, but his head throbbed with even that slight movement.
"I am fine, but you are to lie still. The medics tell me you are next in line for further ministrations." Delenn sighed. "The ship is operable, but damaged. Two of the gravitic propulsion units were hit. There were many injuries in engineering. Our com systems remain non-functional, and we are sending and receiving information by courier. The other two Shadow ships got away. So, we dare not linger here for long."
"And Ventarr's ship? Sheridan, and Marcus? Have we news of them?" Lennier asked.
"Not yet. I have sent over a shuttle to ascertain their status. We should hear back shortly, even sooner if we can restore communications." Delenn's voice remained steady, but the effort it took her showed.
"I should help with that." Lennier made a motion as if to sit up, but fell quickly back as his muscles would simply not hold him. "Perhaps not."
"Perhaps it would be wiser to obey me, and lie still."
"Perhaps it would." Lennier lay silent for a moment, wondering if he dare ask more. There didn't seem to be anyone near enough to hear, so he ventured a question. "Delenn, have you come to a decision regarding Sheridan's identity? Or are you waiting for Marcus to report back?"
She leaned forward, looking down at the floor. Her hair fell forward to hide her face. "I have not. At least…my heart tells me one thing, and my head another. I do not trust either at this point."
"Ah," replied Lennier succinctly. Then, "Have you considered that you may know the answer when you see him? That all may become clear at that point?"
"It is possible." She hesitated, then continued, "Have you ever heard the human saying 'Love is blind'?"
"Not until this moment. It's a peculiar thought, and goes against what little I know of the emotion." Lennier wondered at this turn in the discussion.
"What makes you say that?" Delenn asked curiously.
"In my admittedly limited experience, many emotions make perception difficult; infatuation, obsession, hatred, despair- those are blinding. Love, however, is clear-sighted. It is what is left after you see through the masks and surfaces. That is why the sleep-watching ritual is so important." Lennier broke off, consideringly, "I have often wondered why the ritual is only for females. Is it not important for the male to know the true face of the female as well?"
Delenn laughed out loud, the first time she had done so in a long while. "That is an excellent point! I have no idea why it is so. You must research the matter when we return; you could write it up for publication."
Lennier was happy to have made her smile, but felt distinctly uncomfortable discussing this particular topic with her. Considering his feelings for her, it cut a little close to the bone. Still, she seemed to need to discuss these matters, and he wanted to be there for her, as always. Changing the subject slightly, he asked, "Have you paused in your pursuit of the Aia'sa'dum?"
"I do not think I am particularly adept at that ritual." She sighed, "It seems I must find another way."
He fell silent at that, not wishing to say aloud all the things he was thinking. Then the medics arrived, and he was kept busy answering the questions they had for him. Delenn stood up, but stayed near him, looking over at him and keeping watch as she also listened to progress reports, and gave out directives to an increasing stream of crew members coming to her for consultation.
Once Lennier was taken off, over his protests, to the sickbay for further tests and treatment, she found herself feeling lost and tired. Looking down at her stained clothes, she decided to take some time to change. She told the technicians working on the com station to let her know when it was fixed, and headed for her quarters. Once there, she put on fresh robes and washed what dust and blood she could from her face and arms. Taking off the now grimy cloth that covered the cuts on her hand, she cleaned the wounds as best she could, and looked about for something to bind them. She found nothing really suitable, and resorted to a clean cloth napkin again. Fumbling with the ends, trying to tie them, she absently called out 'Open' when the chime at her door rang.
"Delenn?"
Startled she looked up, dropping the cloth to the floor.
Marcus and Sheridan stood in the doorway. Marcus grinned at her, pushed Sheridan inside unceremoniously, and called out, "It's him, all right!," before backing out, and closing the door on them. "Shortest report I've ever made," he muttered to himself. Grabbing a passing security officer, he stationed him in front of the door to Delenn's quarters. "Stay here. No one goes in until you clear it with me." The Ranger looked at him questioningly, and Marcus put his hand first over his eyes, then his ears, then his mouth. "You see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. Got it?" The Minbari nodded, obedient but uncomprehending.
Marcus walked off, saying to himself, "I guess my work here is done. Now to find poor old Lennier and break the good news to him."
They stood there, stunned by the suddenness of the reunion neither had ever expected to happen. John walked towards her, bent down, and picked up the makeshift bandage.
"Here, let me do that." He ripped the fabric to make longer ends to tie, then gently wound it around her hand. "You haven't gotten that tended to yet, have you?"
Delenn shook her head, speechless for moment. "I've been otherwise occupied," she finally said, in shock at how her doubts were melting away in his presence.
Smiling slightly, he replied as he finished, "Battlefield first aid. It's been a while since I had to do any of that."
"Not quite a battlefield," she answered. "More of a skirmish. Most of the fleet is intact; only two ships badly damaged, and another three with minor problems."
"So what exactly was your plan of action?" John asked seriously.
Delenn replied, equally seriously, "I was following your plan of action. I planned to blow up their homeworld. A psychological blow, if you will."
"I see. And if I said I have another plan?"
"I would listen."
"Then…" He was standing very close, but not touching any part of her but the injured hand he still held in his own. "You're sure now? You're sure I'm me?" As she smiled up at him, he felt once again like he was falling. This time, and for all time, he knew she would be there to catch him. He could never figure out how she did that, send him reeling and steady him, both at the same time, all with just a smile.
She reached up to touch his jawline, drawing one finger along it, sending a shiver up his spine. "I am sure."
Her voice had dropped in register, ending in a soft exhalation. Slowly he drew her into his embrace, trying to draw out the feeling of exquisite rightness as she fit herself into his arms.
Her eyes fixed on his, she gently touched his cheek, in solemn wonder. "I thought I would never see you again."
His arms tightened around her, enfolding her within them. "I'll never leave you, Delenn."
She slid her hand behind his neck, then around his shoulders, pulling them even closer together. "You cannot promise me that."
"I can, and I will. I have no desire…"
"None?" she asked, sliding her hand down his back, following the curve of his spine to its base, and further.
"No desire to leave you, or even this room at the moment," he said hoarsely, pulling her tight against him. His lips were almost touching hers. He could feel the soft pulse of her breath against his cheek, as she whispered.
"Then stay with me tonight. I find I have no desire…to be alone."
His answer did not come in words, but the meaning was clear. There are ways of speaking without words, and hearing without sound, and seeing without sight. And while love can indeed be blind, it can also see more deeply into the heart than any eye or instrument.
That night, Delenn did not dream of falling.
Blind-
by Lifehouse
(partial and rearranged) lyrics
I would fall asleep
Only in hopes of dreaming
That everything would be like it was before
But nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting
They disappear as reality is crashing to the floor
My love for you was blind
But I couldn't make you see it
I couldn't make you see it
I loved you more than you will ever know
A part of me died when I let you go
I watched helpless as you turned around to leave
Still I have the pain that I have to carry
A past so deep that you could not bury it if you tried
My love for you was blind
But I couldn't make you see it
I couldn't make you see it
My love for you was blind