Helpless
Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.
In the days after the swearing-in ceremony, with all its drama and unexpected consequences, John Sheridan didn't have much time to reflect. He was not a reflective man by nature, more accustomed to take things as they came and to deal with them in real time. Aside from the relatively narrow category of war-time strategy and battle tactics, he tended more to forward action than to forward thinking. His new position was demanding a lot more anticipation of events.
Delenn was attending a diplomatic reception. He'd begged off, pleading paperwork. His wife had merely smiled and kissed him fondly. She hadn't been fooled for a moment, but even this early in their marriage, she seemed to know when to push, and when to let him alone. The paperwork lay undisturbed on his desk, which sat at right angles to Delenn's. It was an arrangement he had put together, allowing him to look up frequently and gaze at his wife unnoticed. Even when intent on her work, a frown of concentration tightening her lips and creasing her forehead, she was adorable.
Running his fingers over her glass-topped desk, he saw a stack of flimsies and papers in two neat piles laid to one side, with her com-pad centered and the stylus neatly laid diagonally across the screen. One drawer was slightly open, and he started to push it closed, when it caught on something. Pulling the drawer completely open, he saw it was a Minbari data-stick, which had slid sideways and was jamming the slide. He tried to pull it free, but had to yank it hard and the ornate wood splintered under the force of his effort.
The carved cylinder lay open and fractured, but the data crystals were still intact in their holder. Looking closely he saw each was etched with a cryptic symbol. All but one, which was wrapped in white silk. He picked it up, unrolling the fabric, noticing that it was printed with Minbari characters. He was learning the language; basic lessons on the computer, and more intriguing ones designed by his wife. Still, the first thing he'd learned to write was his name, and that was what was inscribed on the silken cover for the crystal.
As the crystal rolled free of the silk, and fell into his open palm, John considered his next action. It would be inappropriate for him to view what was on the crystal; Delenn hadn't given it to him. On the other hand, it was addressed to him. As he was thinking he sat down at his desk. The crystal reader was there at his left hand. Tossing the crystal up and down a few times, he finally inserted it in the slot, and hit 'Play.'
"John."
Her voice was strained, he could hear it, and he could see the tension in her body as she stood straight upright, centered in a small room, hands at her side. John smiled. She was a tiny thing, but you forgot it when she was around. The room was sparsely furnished, but he could see an ancient shrine carved into the stone wall, the triangular space flanked by white pillar candles in dull metal sconces. That told him she was on Minbar.
"I am sorry I am not able to speak to you in person."
He noted her fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically, indicating great distress.
"I cannot leave Minbar at this point." She drew a deep breath, and continued. "I cannot return without fixing what I have broken."
John hit pause, and leaned back in his chair. He knew what this was about. This had to be from the period of the civil war on Minbar. Swallowing hard, he remembered reading the unemotional bare-bones report he'd received on the war from the Anla'Shok stationed there. There had been only a few Rangers on Minbar during the period. But some of them had been in the audience at the StarFire Wheel.
Leaning forward, John started the recording again.
"I told you once that life is transitory, a dream." Her eyes glowed and he thought he could see tears standing in them. "I do not want to abandon the dream of our life together." Drawing a deep breath, she continued. "But I find I must." Abruptly she lowered her head, letting her hair fall and cover her face.
John gritted his teeth in an effort to maintain his composure. She was hiding her tears, protecting him.
On the screen, Delenn took a deep breath and looked back into the monitor. "I cannot think of another way, one that will bring me back to you." After shivering briefly, she stated in a deliberate monotone, "A different fate lies in my future."
He could see her face clearly, eyes wide and lips twisted as she swallowed further revelations. It was as if she was in the room.
"I love you, John. I always will. And I will see you again." Her hand raised up and reached out as if she was trying to touch him. "But not in this world. Good-bye." Then the screen went blank.
John swallowed hard. He knew what had happened next, and how close he had come to losing her. That period when she had walked so fearlessly into danger and he could do nothing..nothing! He had never felt so helpless.
Removing the crystal, John wrapped it up again, and laid it on top of Delenn's desk, next to the broken holder. He wouldn't hide that he had found it. Running his hand through his hair, he began to pace the length of the living area. He'd woken every hour on the hour, every night she'd been away, until he'd heard she was safely on her way home. Looking around the room, he smiled at the thought that this spinning tin can had become home. By the time she'd returned to the station, he'd been gone, and it had been her turn to wait.
They'd been taking it in turn; watching and waiting, working through the helpless feeling, going on with what needed to be done. Now they were together, and his plan was to never leave her again. Delenn knew from what Lorien had said that eventually John would just stop. John smiled grimly. That was assuming he survived that long. After recent events that wasn't a sure thing. He shook his head. Nothing in life was certain. Risk came with the work he'd chosen, and with the kind of person he was. The same was definitely true of his wife.
Stopping at the window that looked out over the central core of the station, John watched the people at the bottom, still working in the artificial light that bathed the fields. The crops were grown for air renewal and food supply, and for a simple reminder of far-away homes. Soon he would be on his way to Minbar, because her home would be his home, for however long they had.
John turned from the window. The lights outside were dimming in an imitation of night. He'd thought it through. When his time came, he was going to say good-bye and go. He wouldn't stay and draw the thing out. He didn't want her to have to watch him 'stop'. The right words would come to him, the words that would help her understand, and allow her to go on. He would help her not to feel...helpless.