No one ever said overhauling an entire governmental system would be easy. Especially not when that system had been in place for a thousand years.

But if anyone could do it, it was Delenn. Lennier's faith in her had never wavered, not even for a moment. It was because of her that the terrible civil war that had torn the Minbari people apart and caused so much death and destruction had ended. The crystal spires of the Yedor temple, having stood tall and proud and beautiful for a millennium, had crumbled. And many Minbari had lost family members and loved ones. But it was over now, and Delenn was the reason for that. Lennier shuddered to recall the dread and fear he had felt as he watched her standing in the Starfire Wheel, knowing that he could be seconds away from losing her forever. The fact that she had wanted him not to follow her, needed him to take over where she had left off, had been the only reason he had not jumped in there with her. He would have gladly given his life for hers, if it would have been effective. But they had both known that she was only one who could do this. Delenn's physical transformation had already made her a symbol of change amongst their people, a people suddenly finding themselves in desperate need of change. In Lennier's deathbed vision of Dukhat the previous year, the great religious leader had told him that together, Delenn and Lennier would change the universe – that she was destined for great things and he was to be her guide. So he had stood there and watched her burn for their people, and he had felt the strangest mixture of pride and love and grief. In the moment, he had been unable to stop one selfish thought from poking through his attention on Delenn – and that was how much he would miss her if she did not survive this. He did not know if he could face the trials of his life – both the uncertain political times ahead of them and the genetic condition that had the potential to claim his life at any time – if Delenn wasn't there to support him.

But then Neroon had taken Delenn's place in the column of blue fire. Lennier had harbored so much resentment against the Warrior Caste official for so long – he had, after all, tried to assassinate Delenn – that he had scarcely been able to believe that Neroon would sacrifice himself for Delenn, despite the fact that Lennier had seen it play out before his own eyes. But in the end, Neroon saw what Lennier had always known – that Delenn was the person best fit to lead their people. Her willingness to sacrifice herself for the good of all Minbari and the loyalty she inspired were too important to let die. And so Neroon had perished in her place. With his help and sacrifice, Delenn had ended a war, just as she had begun one all those years ago. Lennier hoped that in time, that accomplishment of the former would help make up for the debt Delenn held in her heart for latter.

But now, a mere couple of months following the creation of the new Gray Council, was a delicate time. Lennier had never been so proud of anyone in all his life as he had been as he watched Delenn rebuild their world's ruling body. With it, he hoped, she laid the feet of the Minbari people on the path to recovery from this terrible war. But it would be a long process. Obviously not everyone agreed with the novel idea of having five of the Nine hail from the Worker Caste. Delenn's radical move had stirred both support and backlash in enormous quantities. And while Delenn wanted the new ruling body to stand on its own, they had needed much of her guidance since their formation. While she had been able to stay on Babylon 5, Delenn spent nearly all day every day in conference calls, advising the new Council. It was terribly unfair, Lennier thought, for this formative time for their people to fall while Delenn was still grieving for Neroon and recovering from her experience in the Starfire Wheel.

Lennier had, of course, stretched himself as thin as he could to help her, despite being in the process of recuperating from his emergency lung lobectomy. He had to admit that he was happy that particular experience had all happened so quickly – there had been less time for Delenn to worry about him. He had been on the operating table before she had even become aware that anything was wrong. She had later relayed the story to Lennier of running to the cruiser's sickbay with a bottle of his antibodies and hurrying through an explanation of his condition to a nurse. She had saved his life – the additional information had prompted Neroon's physician to seal the operating room, keeping Lennier's body from becoming contaminated with the bacteria that posed such a terrible threat to him. Luckily, his antibody titers had been high enough at the start of it all to give him just enough protection to stay free of infection until the infusion had taken over. But still, his healing had been slow – his immune system had never quite recovered from his bout of sepsis the previous year, and the stress of the war and the Starfire Wheel and the formation of the new Council had not exactly helped matters. The pain had finally subsided a couple of weeks ago, but he still found himself short of breath if he physically exerted himself too much. As always, Delenn encouraged him to take things slow and rest, but had he not hidden the extent of his pain from her, she likely would have made him take time off. But he knew she could not afford to be without her aide for any length of time – not now. So he learned to conceal his pain, to scream on the inside but show no outward reaction. And he continued to do whatever Delenn asked of him, and he recovered in his own time.

So when one day Lennier had awoken from another much too short sleep and suddenly needed to run to bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach, never once had he questioned whether he would perform his duties that day or not. He had rinsed his mouth, stood shakily, and gone on with his morning routine, with the exception of his breakfast. When he had gotten to Delenn's quarters, she had barely had the time to bid him a good morning before her conference call with one of the Religious Caste members of the new Council, Bhurli, began. It was strange, thought Lennier, that such discussions should be done over a communications channel. In the past, an audience with the Gray Council meant one paid a visit to their ship, the Valen'Tha, no matter who you were. But much had changed, and out of deference to Delenn, the new Satai had agreed to accommodate her need to be on Babylon 5 as the conflict with Earth grew ever worse.

Lennier's job in these electronic meetings was to keep a record of the conversation and research anything that might come up to question. He did far more of the former than the latter – Delenn was confident and very knowledgeable. The vast majority of the time, Lennier sat silently in the background, so it was mercifully easy to slip quietly to the bathroom when he needed to vomit. He hoped Delenn did not notice that he left twice. But even with his frequent absences, Lennier was able to follow the progression of the conversation well enough that his notes were mostly complete. As miserable as he felt, he took pride in that, at least.

By the time the call was over, it was noon. Delenn bid Bhurli farewell, hung up, and leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. Her face looked drawn and weary. Lennier hated to see her like that. She had been through far too much recently to have so much heaped onto her shoulders.

"Tell me this will all work out, Lennier," she murmured, swiveling her chair around to face him. He hoped he did not look pale enough for her to notice he was ill. She had far too many things sapping her energy to need to worry about her aide having eaten something that did not agree with him. Delenn was wringing her hands, a sure sign that she was troubled.

"It will," he reassured her softly, and he honestly believed that it was the truth. "You are doing the right thing, Delenn. Someday, all of our people will see that as clearly as I do."

"Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am to have you to keep me on my path, Ker'maier Ard'ka?" murmured Delenn with an affectionate smile. Despite the uncomfortable roiling in his stomach, Lennier managed to smile back at her. "Ker'maier Ard'ka" was a term of endearment Delenn had coined for him. In English, it meant "guiding light". Delenn had once told Lennier that he was a light for her footsteps, and that she could never make it through all of the difficult times they faced without him. Not long ago, Lennier would have thought she was overstating his importance to her just a bit. But ever since the illness that had nearly claimed Lennier's life the previous year, the relationship between himself and Delenn had become the strongest friendship he had ever known anyone to have. They each were the other's confidant, advisor, comforter, and companion. Neither was whole without the other. And Lennier felt the same way about Delenn as she did about him – in the face of his dangerous health condition, she gave him the strength he needed to face each day.

He wished he had just a bit more of that strength now, however. He had been feeling progressively weaker throughout the morning. And to make matters worse, he was beginning to take a chill, which very likely meant he was coming down with a fever. If that was the case, it was going to be harder to conceal this from Delenn. If she knew he was ill, she would abandon everything to take care of him, and Lennier knew that she just could not afford to do that right now. He had likely only eaten something he should not have – with any luck, he would be feeling better by the next day, and completely recovered by the day after that. But if Delenn got so much as a suggestion that he was unwell, she would worry over him without cessation. She would undoubtedly insist he see Doctor Franklin, which was entirely unnecessary – Lennier had had his antibody titer checked the previous day, and it had been perfectly adequate. He had made sure to take an injection that morning, and would continue to do so twice a day until he felt better. He seriously doubted the doctor would do anything more for him. Lennier would be fine – all he had to do was hide his illness from Delenn.

Luckily, she did not seem to notice his less than ideal physical state just then.

"Is it only noon? It feels like I was on that call for an entire day! And my stomach has been growling for the past hour. I hope it could not be heard on the other end of the line." She laughed softly as she got to her feet and headed for the kitchen. "It is most certainly time for lunch, although I am afraid we do not have long to take it before our next call. Luckily, I have plenty of leftover Almara meal from dinner last night – I will heat some up for the two of us."

"I am all right, thank you, Delenn." The very thought of eating anything worsened his nausea ten-fold, and he was grateful Delenn had busied herself in the kitchen and therefore did not see him ball the bottom of his robe into his fist in an effort to distract himself until the worst of the discomfort abated.

Delenn glanced over her shoulder at him. "Are you sure? You ought to eat something, Lennier. We have a long afternoon ahead of us."

"I am still full from breakfast," he manufactured quickly, forcing a smile that he hoped disguised how miserable he really felt. "I had an extra large bowl of spiced porridge." He hated lying to her, but it really was better this way.

"Well, you were more prepared than I was. I suppose I should have eaten a bigger breakfast. I feel like I could eat all of the Almara meal in the universe right now." She placed the container of leftovers into the reheater, and soon the smell of Almara meal permeated her quarters. It would normally have been tantalizing – Lennier rather enjoyed Almara meal – but now it made him need to throw all of his concentration into keeping what little remained in his stomach inside his body. Oblivious to his suffering, Delenn continued to tinker around in the kitchen, putting a kettle of tea on the stove and looking for clean mugs. She was going to turn around and see him struggling, he just knew it, and then all of his efforts would have been for naught. But just then the BabCom beeped.

"Incoming call from John Sheridan."

Thank you, Captain. Lennier took a steadying breath and managed to push himself to his feet.

"I am sure you wish to speak to the Captain in private. Shall I rejoin you at twelve thirty?"

"Yes, thank you, Lennier." Delenn flashed him a quick smile as she pulled her food out of the reheater and went to sit in front of the screen. Lennier bowed, stifling a wince at the motion – his abdominal muscles were already beginning to feel sore from the unprecedented amount he had been using them that day. He left Delenn's quarters as she answered the call. Miraculously, Lennier managed to make it to his own quarters, the distance of two mere hallways seeming unending, before collapsing to his knees in front of his toilet and heaving with everything he had. He did not understand – surely there could hardly be anything left for him to bring up. But his body seemed convinced otherwise, and by the time he had finally finished it was all he could do to lean his forehead against the soothingly cool ceramic and shiver until he had to force himself to return to Delenn's quarters for the afternoon call.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Somehow, Lennier continued to struggle through his work, despite feeling progressively weaker and more miserable. By the time he returned to Delenn's quarters, she was just beginning the call, so he mercifully did not even have to interact with her. Normally, not having the time to talk to Delenn made Lennier feel sad and lonely – while of course he enjoyed being around her no matter what, he so loved just spending time with his best friend and being close to her without letting work get in the way. But today, he was grateful Delenn had no time for him, because the less she paid attention to him, the less likely she was to notice he wasn't well.

It turned out that Captain Sheridan saved him again, because the call at lunchtime had been to invite Delenn to dinner. It was to be a working dinner – with the conflict with Earth steadily approaching a boiling point, there was much to talk about and to strategize. But Lennier and Captain Sheridan had reached an unspoken understanding. When Lennier had spoken to Satai Dukhat in a vision whilst he had been on the brink of death the previous year, the great religious leader and Delenn's former mentor had told him that Delenn and Sheridan were destined to be together.

"Delenn and John Sheridan will together change the future of the galaxy. Their roles and fates are irrevocably intertwined, and their love for each other sealed."

That knowledge had hurt at first, but Lennier had quickly come to realize that he and Delenn were also meant to be together - in a different way, yes, but a no less important or close one. Neither Delenn nor Sheridan knew of Lennier's vision, and therefore neither knew of their fate. But Lennier would do everything he could to protect the prophecies Dukhat had entrusted him with. And besides, Sheridan made Delenn happy, and there was nothing in the universe that Lennier wanted more than for Delenn to be happy. So he never intruded upon Sheridan's attentions to Delenn, nor did he hold them against him in any way. He did, however, keep a watchful eye from a distance when he could. Prophecy or no prophecy, if Sheridan ever hurt Delenn, even in the slightest, Lennier would make the human captain wish he had never been born.

Likewise, Sheridan seemed to understand that Lennier posed no threat to him from a romantic standpoint. He knew that Delenn and Lennier were extremely close, and during Lennier's illness the previous year Sheridan had worked tirelessly for over a week to defer matter after pressing matter away from Delenn so she could spend all of her time at Lennier's side. Lennier did not think he would have survived that terrible time if Delenn had not been there for him while he had been so desperately ill. And while he knew she would have stayed with him anyway, Lennier was grateful to Sheridan for keeping her worries about the outside world to a minimum. But the captain clearly saw how much Lennier meant to Delenn, and to Lennier's admitted surprise, he had never tried to disturb their time together.

Lennier was not blind – he knew that Sheridan and Delenn's dinner tonight was only for the two of them. And he was more than all right with that. "Incredibly grateful" would be a more accurate term.

The call that afternoon was more heated than the one that morning, for Delenn was speaking to one of the representatives of the Warrior Caste. Tensions from the recent war still ran high between the Warrior Caste and the Religious Caste, and in typical Warrior fashion, the Satai on the other end of the line, Mazetsch, spent what Lennier thought to be a ridiculous amount of time trying to assert Warrior policy, despite the fact that Delenn had made it abundantly clear that the bulk of the power was to belong to the Worker Caste. He got a bit hostile at one point, accusing Delenn of stacking the council in her favor. Despite his haze of nausea and exhaustion, Lennier bristled at this from his off-camera corner, but Delenn quickly shot back that if had not been for her, Mazetsch would not even be on the Gray Council at all. The Warrior was only slightly more pliable after that, and by the time the call was over, Delenn was exhausted and frustrated.

"You would think he would show an ounce of gratitude for what I have done for him," she hissed as soon as the line had dropped. "Not that that is what bothers me, of course. I am worried that the moment I step out of this completely, should that moment ever come, the Warrior Caste will elbow their way in and seize control and everything will just go back to the horrible way it was." She breathed a shaky sigh and laid her head on her arms. Lennier's heart ached to see her so despondent. He stood and slowly walked over to sit next to her, policing his movements very carefully so she would not see him shivering, and laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"All will be well, Delenn. Never fear," he murmured, wishing that he had the strength to come up with comfort that was more specific and encouraging. But thankfully, that seemed to be enough for the moment. Delenn smiled gratefully but briefly up at him before her gaze caught the clock on the wall.

"I must get ready to meet with John. Thank you for your help today, Lennier, as always. I will see you the same time tomorrow morning for yet another round of…conversations." She sighed morosely and got to her feet. Lennier waited until she had turned away so he could take his time getting up and leaving. Delenn had been so mentally engaged in the call that afternoon, fielding questions and deflecting insults and catching attempts at thwarting her carefully laid plans, that Lennier was not particularly surprised that she had not noticed him leave three times. He was glad of this because it meant she was not going to worry about him, but it also reaffirmed his reasoning for concealing his illness from her. No, Delenn had far too much on her plate right now to be concerned with Lennier's silly little case of food poisoning.

When he arrived back at his quarters, Lennier resisted the urge to climb straight onto his bed and curl up as best he could at a forty-five degree angle to the ground. He had not taken a single thing to eat nor drink all day. And while Minbari could go two weeks without food without any serious consequences, Lennier knew that not drinking in addition to losing the amount of fluids he had that day meant that he would likely become dehydrated quite soon. So with trembling hands, he poured himself a glass of water and then took the tiniest of sips. He immediately regretted it – his queasiness intensified almost instantaneously, so much so that he nearly dropped the glass. He barely had time to set it on the counter and rush to the bathroom. As he retched helplessly and painfully, Lennier resigned himself to not trying that again for the rest of the night.

Mercifully, he only needed to get up once that night, but he awoke the next morning with a headache and feeling like he had not gotten a wink of sleep, and he was no less nauseous than the previous day. Once again, he substituted an antibody injection for his breakfast and then dragged himself down the hall to Delenn's quarters. Unfortunately, she needed him to run an errand – picking up a package from the docking bay. The docking bay was all the way on the other side of the station from Green Sector, where they lived. Lennier needed to stop several times to lean surreptitiously against the wall when he thought no one was looking, only to have to summon all of his strength to straighten back up again when someone rounded a corner toward him. Luckily, the package was neither bulky nor heavy, but by the time he found himself back at Delenn's door, Lennier could barely keep his feet. He was cold and dizzy, and his nausea had gotten even worse. He wanted so much to go back to his quarters and lie down, but he knew he couldn't. Besides, he did not even know if he could manage to walk down another two hallways. It was as though his every last ounce of strength had been drained out of him. He took a couple of steadying breaths, pinched his cheeks so hopefully he would not look quite so pale, and walked through the door. Luckily, Delenn in the middle of yet another call and only briefly smiled in his direction when he entered, and Lennier was able to collapse in the corner without attracting any unwanted attention.

His headache worsened progressively throughout the day. He supposed it was a result of a combination of dehydration and fever. By the end of the day, none of his symptoms had subsided at all – he felt worse than ever. But all the same, he tried another miniscule sip of water when he got home that evening. It yielded the same result as the previous day.

By the third day, Lennier could hardly focus on what he was reading– his vision kept blurring when he looked at the data pad. He kept rubbing at his eyes – it helped, but only for a little while at a time. But Delenn had a couple of in-person meetings with other station ambassadors that day, and through some ironic twist of good fortune, she did not require Lennier's presence at either of them. Lennier put monumental effort into making himself look healthy as Delenn spoke directly to him, giving him instructions for what he was to do until she returned – scour the Minbari news outlets to see the public's reaction to the new Gray Council so far. Delenn had, after all, created the new Council to serve the people, and so the people were her most important source of feedback. And she wanted to stay on top of the responses as much as possible, so she could address problems as they arose. She is so dedicated, Lennier thought, even though sometimes it seems as though our entire world, or even the entire universe, is against her. Well, there is at least one Minbari who supports her. I just wish I could do a better job of it right now.

Delenn finished her description just then and looked to Lennier for confirmation that he understood. While concentrating on hiding his illness from her and fighting back his ever-worsening nausea, he had admittedly missed parts of what she had said. He hoped that he had gotten the general idea, and he forced a smile and a nod.

"Good. Thank you, Lennier – this information will be most helpful. I am sorry things have been so busy as of late. We are long overdue some time together outside of work. I promise I will make it up to you." Her sweet smile lessened his chill just a little.

"You are saving our world – the wait is worth it." His voice sounded weak to him, but the content of his words was thankfully what caught Delenn's attention.

"My sweet Lennier," she murmured affectionately, squeezing his arm before heading off to her first meeting. Mercifully, his robes had long sleeves, so she did not notice the heat radiating off of his skin. As soon as she was gone, Lennier let his façade drop entirely. He allowed himself a whimper of agony and a few seconds curled up on the couch before forcing himself to sit up and begin the duties Delenn had assigned him. But his head pounded and he was so shaky he could barely remain in a sitting position. He had hoped that by now, the third day, whatever this was would have run its course. But it was beginning to seem like this was no ordinary case of food poisoning. Of course not – what had he been thinking? Of course he could not just be a little bit ill – something had to go catastrophically wrong. His head pounded so hard that the room spun in front of him, and he pinched his temples, wincing. He was dehydrated, that much he knew. He really ought to have IV fluids. But if he went to Medlab, Delenn would know he was ill and then two and a half days of expert concealment would all go to waste. He could not worry her like that – not now. And he could not find himself out of commission, either. Delenn relied on him – she needed his report on the media outlets. He needed to focus. He tried once more to turn his attention to his work, to push aside his discomfort like a good monk and carry on. He got through all of about thirty seconds of reading before his stomach rebelled yet again. In his weakness, he very nearly did not make it to the bathroom in time. But when he had finished, he splashed water on his face – it was a very un-Minbari-like thing to do, but he was desperate – and forced himself to carry on. He had a job to do, and he would do it because Delenn needed him. Serving her and making her life just the littlest bit easier made this all worth it. But Lennier was not sure how much more buried strength he had left to dredge up.

It took Lennier far longer than it should have to finish his assignment, but Delenn's second meeting went longer than they had anticipated. When she walked in at eighteen hundred hours, she thanked Lennier for his patience and told him they would go over his report the following day. She looked exhausted, and more distracted than ever. He wished he could inquire what the problem was and comfort and reassure her. But he could barely muster up the strength to bid her a good night.

By the next day, Lennier could barely get out of bed. His legs wobbled as they touched the floor, and he needed to hold the bed for support until he could get his balance. It took him nearly ten minutes to give himself his antibody injection because his hand shook so much that he could not drive the needle into his arm. When he had finished at long last, he stared longingly at the pitcher of water in his refrigerator, but he ultimately decided that trying to drink even a miniscule sip would undoubtedly backfire. But it turned out his sacrifice was in vain, for the mere motion of closing the refrigerator door and stepping backward was enough to set his head to pounding so furiously that stars danced across his field of vision. The stunning pain triggered a wave of nausea so strong he could never have hoped to fight it. The large bowl he had placed by his bed was closer than the bathroom. Lennier had no idea where his body kept finding more contents to put into it, but the heaves were by far the worst part. His abdominal muscles had been put through such grief over the past four days that he stifled a sob of pain as they involuntarily contracted.

It nearly fifteen minutes for him to recover, and as he straightened up slowly, the room spun and he clutched desperately for the side of the bed to steady himself. Luckily, he barely managed to keep both his balance and his consciousness. But the moment he had taken a few steps, one arm slung across his torso to support his sore abdomen and the other holding on the wall for stability, his queasiness returned full force. This wouldn't do. He was already late for work. Lennier was never late, so the moment Delenn noticed, she would begin to worry. But there was no help for it – he could not fight it anymore.

His legs gave out just as he reached the toilet, and he clutched it for support. Its smooth hardness felt cold against his burning skin. After several retches, each more painful than the last, his body finally allowed him to stop vomiting. He had to go to work – even though logically he knew he was past the point of being able to function, his fevered mind told him that it was imperative he still carry out his duties. He braced himself and tried to stand, but to his horror he found that his legs would not support him. Dizzying pain erupted in his head again at the movement, and he sank down with a whimper, pressing his cheek against the cool tile and shivering with fever and fatigue.

And then, distantly, he heard the door to his quarters swing open, and Delenn's voice calling his name.