Disclaimer: All of the usual stuff - Babylon 5 is owned by J Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Productions™ and Warners™.
Author's Note: The next offering for the Valentine series for no_shadows_fall. This is a small scene post And the Rock ...
Song of Songs
By
Laurie M
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
-e.e. cummings
The service ended, as it had begun, with song. Something slower, more sedate than the last service she had attended. The time between the two could be measured in hours, yet it felt another lifetime ago. The one constant in both cases was the man at her side; and now, as then, he joined the singers, guiding her to do the same.
Delenn had visited Brother Theo many times in his little chapel amidst the down-and-outs of Brown Sector, had shared with him prayers and meditations but never before had attended one of his services. His face was transformed during the ritual he had performed: one moment the staid, rather fussy man who tended his sometimes reluctant flock, the next someone who radiated an inner light as though his soul had found its way through the shell of the body and was revealed before them.
When it was over, and the celebrants had made their triumphal exit with incense and book, they found themselves among the last of the congregation; most had already filed out and Sheridan and Delenn joined the shuffling line as each member said their thanks and good-byes to Brother Theo at his post by the door.
'Ambassador...' Brother Theo stretched his hands out to Delenn, his eyes warm 'I am glad you came; I had not hoped to see you again so soon; and you, Captain - we do not see you often enough.'
Even his moustache seemed to stiffen, Sheridan thought. 'Well, things have been very-'
'Busy,' the monk finished. 'Hm, yes. You have been busy for a very long time.'
'Which has been pointed out to me the last few days. More than once.'
It had been an invitation they had been unable to refuse: wandering through the corridors, away from the White Star, and both still slightly dazed by their new-found certainty, they had encountered Brother Theo - and the monk had been pointed in his remark that as they had recently attended Reverend Dexter's service...
'It was a very beautiful ceremony,' Delenn said. 'I had not realised quite how different the manner in which Humans perform your rituals can be. I found it calming.'
'Calming, yes.' Theo drew himself up and continued without a trace of self-consciousness, 'I am not one to criticise how other people choose to worship, but I cannot help but think that such exuberance makes God jump.'
Sheridan suppressed a smile. He looked more relaxed, Theo thought; and it was a change that was profound rather than superficial. The monk did not fool himself that it had anything to do with the Mass, but rather with Delenn. He inspected the couple; there, too, the change was profound yet subtle. The way they moved around each other, with one another. They both looked as though they could not feel the ground beneath their feet.
Yes, the change had finally come; and not before time. The little group parted amicably, Brother Theo watching them, his hands tucked into the wide sleeves of his habit, until they had rounded the corner.
'Not one to criticise?'
'John, he will hear you.'
'Seriously, he'll be winning the Lack of Self-Awareness award. I hope he tells that in confession.'
She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, reproachful; but he saw the betraying twitch at her lips. He was achingly aware of her; he was always aware of her but this was more acute. The taste of her, the feel of her had seared itself into him. The strength of it would have been frightening, had it not been so greatly desired. She had been correct about the service, though - its cadences and ancient repetitions were calming. But through it all he had been conscious of her, beside him, and every tiny gesture she made. The gravity with which she had listened to the sermon; the reverence she had shown for beliefs that she did not share but could understand ... he had watched her through it all. And he had tried, as he had so many times before, to name the thing that it was in her that had caught him so completely.
She raised a hand to brush the hair away from her face; such a simple gesture, one that he had seen repeated so many times. And each time he was helpless. In her most frail gesture were things that enclosed him.
Her head turned slightly; she found his gaze and colour rose in her cheeks, mirroring the rush of heat that tingled through her under that look. He could see too much when he looked at her.
The corridors of this part of Downbelow were quiet; most of the station would be quiet; it had grown late without either of them noticing but they lingered together, not quite certain of how to proceed but neither willing to part.
Sheridan walked beside her, keeping his hands clasped behind his back; their footsteps had fallen into a rhythm: his slightly shorter, hers a little longer than usual. Accommodating one another.
This sector had never really improved, he noted, despite all their best efforts. Never enough money, and too many more urgent matters that demanded the attention of the command staff. Yet despite all the ugliness and petty cruelties there was still beauty to be found here. He stopped suddenly; Delenn still took another step before she caught herself, turned to face him.
'John?'
'Sorry, I-' He looked around, down the corridors leading from the intersection. 'I just remembered something - something that I meant to show you a long time ago, I just never got around to it.' Sheridan smiled wryly. 'And then I forgot.'
She smiled in turn. 'Yes; as Brother Theo said, you have been busy for a long time.'
'Don't you start. Do you have the time now?'
'To spend with you?' Her head tilted. 'Yes. I have time for that.'
Sheridan paused for a moment and then held out his hand. Her fingers fit into his, slim and smooth and cool as he remembered them; strength and delicacy resting in the palm of his hand. And he wondered again for how long he had held her hand that night when they had raced through the stars and the sound of rain. She had still been there when he had woken: not beside him but still there, on the other side of the room and framed by light that had obscured the details of her face. They seemed to have spent a long time like that, he thought: together yet apart. But no more; not ever again.
He guided her down the narrow passageway, his eyes searching for the entrance. Delenn stopped when he did, watched with curiosity and some puzzlement when he pushed aside a curtain of rags and bent down. He straightened again, smiled at her. 'I wasn't sure if they'd still be here.'
'Who?'
He smiled, tantalising. 'Go in - you'll see.'
There was still a moment before she realised he wished her to pass through the opening; she crouched, cautiously, seeing only darkness and smelling slightly stale air; for a moment the warm enclosure confined her, closing in, like threads trapping her again- She pushed forward, finding a cool current of air and settled on the ground. Sheridan followed her, folding himself awkwardly into the corner.
The same figure was still huddled, only when it moved, the folds of its tattered robe shifting as the bowl was pushed forward did Delenn realise that they were not alone there.
'Hello again.' Sheridan pulled the bar from his uniform; it gleamed dully in the half-light. 'It's another one of these, I'm afraid; I still don't have anything else with me.' It dropped into the dish and both again were pulled back.
Delenn watched the exchange, still aware of a vague uneasiness. She glanced at Sheridan; he turned to her in the same moment. His face was streaked by shadow but she could see his eyes, their light holding her steady in the semi-darkness. And even though she could not see she knew that he smiled.
The air felt heavy despite the occasional breath of cool; everything seemed to be waiting. Then the sound came and the first note pierced her. Voices joined together, rippling across her skin. It took the breath from her, hearing - feeling - a beauty so intense that it was almost unbearable. She braced herself against it, resisting the pull before finally submitting.
Their melody was sinuous, wrapping itself around her; it was not just a sound, not just music, it was a living thing. It transcended those who uttered it and those who heard it. This, she thought, was the song of the universe when it had sung itself into existence. She was aware of the feel of it, its resonance, more alive to the sensation of her own body - and the presence of the man sitting beside her.
They were all the universe, all part of each other - just as she and Sheridan had been part of one another long before they had met in this lifetime. And despite the small distance between them, as she lost herself in the song, she was certain the she could feel the beat of his heart in tandem with hers.
ooOoo
There had been light for a while - led by the music or leading it, she was not sure. But they had been cocooned in it and when the last note had died and the light faded they sat together.
He took her hand again, helping her out into the open and everything seemed different. The shabby corridors of Downbelow seemed to hum slightly, resonating with the melody she still felt. She looked at Sheridan and his face was radiant. The innocence that was always in his eyes now so clear, and wonder, and she ached for him.
'Kosh brought me here a long time ago,' he said. 'It was one of his lessons.'
'What did you learn from it?'
'I learnt about beauty.'
His eyes were on her, intent, and she felt again the heat flood her cheeks, dropping her gaze; he took her chin gently in his hand, lifting her head and traced the lines of her face with his fingers.
Fin