Declarations, Part I

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. They are my words, although in this piece there are lines of dialogue from several of the exchanges between Delenn and Lennier, from S1 thru S5.


He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming when they lifted him onto the stretcher to remove him from the wrecked ship. His leg had been broken in multiple places, and there was something badly wrong with his hip as well. Delenn refused any medical attention, instead staying at his side, alternately demanding the Centauri medics take better care, and murmuring platitudes to him in Adronato. The Centauri vessel had towed their ship all the way back to Centauri Prime without boarding it, and the trip had been a nightmare mixture of relief and dread and unspoken emotions.

Once they'd arrived in orbit, the Centauri had boarded and prepared him for debarkation. The other Minbari crew members were still being extricated from the wreckage below decks, although none of them reported being badly hurt. The plan was to transfer him, with Delenn, to Sheridan's White Star first. There they would stabilize him, and if necessary, move him to another ship for transport to the nearest Ranger medical facility, or back to the station. As they jostled the stretcher into the small flyer, he clutched the sides at the lancing pain that shot through his injured hip, then started as he realized that Delenn had taken his hand from the side rail and was holding it tightly.

"Hold on to me," she said softly in their native tongue. "Do not be afraid to hold tightly. I will not let you go. I will stay with you."

He realized her words were gentle half-truths, but gripped her hand any way. He knew in his heart that his declaration on the ship, as he thought they were about to die, had changed things between them irrevocably. Her awkward attempts to pretend she had not heard his fatal words had simply made him miserable, and he sincerely hoped she had given up that attempt at easing his mind. As a Minbari, declaring his love to a joined female was reprehensible. There were penalties involved, formal renunciations, rituals to take back his words…the problem was that he could not take back his declaration without lying. He could not say he did not love her and retain his honor, but he could not leave things as they were either. He should, at the very least, publicly apologize to her mate.

The more he thought about it, the more he longed to accept her prevarications, and try to go along as they had before; with hidden feelings and unspoken affections. Once he had been sure she would eventually realize her error in joining with Sheridan, but he knew now she never would. Even on the brink of death, even after he had told her how he felt; still her eyes did not fall on him with the light that glowed so strongly at even the thought of his rival. His illusions lay dead and shattered all around him, and his shame threatened to engulf him.

He wished there had been some relief in finally speaking his secret, and acknowledging the truth of his attachment. His actual motives in speaking still eluded him; it had seemed to well up from the depths of his soul. As if, in the face of imminent death, he could finally face what was worse than death--the probability that she would never return his feelings.

After the war had ended, and she had told him of her plans to join with Sheridan, he had thought she was still focused on fulfilling the prophecies, and becoming the bridge between their two cultures, a symbol of the reunion of separated Minbari souls. As time went on, he had become aware that the attraction between the two of them was real, and that she strongly desired this human as mate.

Sheridan, he mused, loved her deeply as well. He had been shocked at the revelation of the man's limited lifespan, and acknowledged that was a harsh payment for the human's role in defeating the Shadows. As much as it galled him to admit it, Delenn had known of the human's limitations, and still acquiesced to the joining. To his mind, it was not honorable of Sheridan to pursue a bond that was doomed to swift termination. This line of thought always stalled when he came to the vows Delenn had inserted into the human ceremony. Her deliberate use of the Minbari term that indicated she intended to remain faithful for the length of her life and beyond, had both astonished and sickened him. In the last year, he had come to accept that she must have had her reasons, although at times he wondered if some of that reasoning might have been political and strategic. Perhaps she did not admit that aspect of her marriage even to herself.

He had sought some measure of peace in joining the Anla'Shok. It had seemed a way to serve her from afar, and at least to partially fulfill his vow to never leave her side. He had also hoped the discipline of the training would help him deal with his inappropriate feelings; he would never stop loving her, but perhaps he could learn to accept her choices. At the beginning he had tortured himself, going back and forth between the possibilities. Time and distance had helped, and he had hoped that his hard-fought for acceptance would continue when he returned to her. It hadn't worked. One look at her, one touch from her hand, and his hard-won peace had fled. Hope burned within him yet again.

He understood enough Centauri to gather that the ship had docked with the White Star. The door leading to the cockpit opened and two Centauri appeared to pick up the ends of the stretcher. Delenn held tightly to his hand, as his lips tightened against the anticipation of pain. They jostled him out the hatch, and down a short ramp to the docking bay, where a team of Rangers awaited them. The meeting was tense and short; the Centauri informed the Rangers they would return with the other injured crewmembers shortly, and turned and re-entered their ship. The medic checked him over briefly, and nodded to the others to pick up the stretcher. Delenn impatiently shrugged off the medic's attempts to look her over, and kept a tight grip on his hand as they walked slowly past the two small shuttles, and entered the passageway leading away from the docking bay.

"Are you all right, Lennier? Should I ask them to go more slowly?" Delenn's eyes were worried.

Lennier thought she had never looked more beautiful, smudged face, torn dress and all. She was alive, and that alone made everything right. He replied, "I will be fine. You should have let him look at you. You lost consciousness, and that is never good."

"At the time, it did not seem so bad. The waking seemed like the bad part." She went on warmly, "But at least you were there. That made all the difference."

He pondered this, and said carefully, "I said that I would never leave your side. I do not…"

Just then, they heard the noise of someone approaching, rapidly. Lennier was watching Delenn, and though he could not see who it was from his vantage point, he could see the answer in her eyes, which lit up, shining with the light of a thousand candles.

The slender fingers, holding so tightly to his, loosened their grip, and his hand fell, ever so slowly, back to his side. He heard, as if from a great distance, her voice, saying another's name, and time seemed to stretch away from him, forwards and backwards.

"Will you follow me into fire, into storm, into darkness, into death?"

"My place is at your side, Delenn. Always."

"I cannot have an aide who will not look up. You will be forever walking into things."

"I will not leave without you."

"If I leave, I will have failed you…Kosh; I will have failed everyone. If you care for me, you cannot let that happen."

"I will see you again, in a little while."

"Lennier, for the first time, I feel very much alone."

"No. Never alone, Delenn. Never alone."

"Who are we to stand in the way of prophecy?"

"I know that Delenn is fated for another, and I have accepted that, in my heart, but I have vowed to stay at her side through all things, for as long as I live."

"That's a dangerous promise, Lennier."

"She said, that...all love is unrequited."

"She was wrong, Lennier. You know that, don't you?"

"I am yours forever, Delenn. Heart, body, and soul."

"If you go, you may learn things about me, that will change your opinion of me."

"I came for wisdom."

"You don't come to the dead for wisdom."

"Can understanding be a greater danger?"

"In this case, yes."

"But, what if you are wrong?"

"Then speak well of me, when I am gone."

"I have pledged myself to your side. Come fire, or storm, or darkness, or death."

Look up. Will you follow me? All love is unrequited. I came for wisdom. Look up. When I am gone. You know that, don't you? Never alone. Look up. I am yours forever. She was wrong. Heart, body, and soul.

"Lennier? Lennier, are you all right? Look at me!" Her voice stopped echoing through his mind, and he blinked to see her standing beside the stretcher, one arm encircling Sheridan, her hand holding tightly to his waist; her other hand resting lightly on her husband's chest, as if to anchor herself in him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, for there was nothing left to say. He heard Sheridan's voice as if through a fog.

"I wanted to thank you, Lennier. Delenn tells me using the weapons discharge as a signal was your idea. It was a good one."

There was no answer required. What would he say in any case? 'You're welcome?' Perhaps he should ask how the war was going; but he found he no longer cared.

Sheridan continued, "The medics will look after you. The war appears to be over. We'll see you back on the station."

Lennier glanced over, to catch a glimpse of the two embracing. His eyes burned, and he quickly looked away. He didn't need to see the two of them together; at this point, anytime he tried to picture Delenn, he saw her with Sheridan. They were joined in his mind and in his memories; the images etched on his brain as if with acid.

Declarations, Part II

Delenn had impatiently shrugged off the medic's attempts to look her over in the docking bay. She was worried at Lennier's condition, both physically and emotionally. Her mind was still in turmoil over what was to done about his declaration on the ship, when they both thought death was imminent. She had indicated that she was prepared to pretend it had never happened, but she was uncertain of Lennier's feelings in the matter. There were protocols and rituals, but the embarrassment for both Lennier and her husband would be profound. She spoke softly to her friend, at a loss as to how to convey her affection and gratitude without entangling his emotions further.

His voice grew solemn as he began to say, "I said that I would never leave your side. I do not…"

Just then, they heard the noise of someone approaching, rapidly. She looked up, warmth rushing to her cheeks, as she recognized the impatient voice of John, demanding to know where they were. Without realizing it, she let go of Lennier's hand, and reached forward instinctively, towards the sound, as if she could pull him closer more quickly.

He burst around the corner, all agitation and hurry, then stopped dead as he caught sight of her. "Delenn?" he said, his voice tense with anxiety. Then again, "Delenn." This time her name was spoken with certainty, as if something missing had slotted back into place. With two quick strides, he was in front of her, his large hands gripping her arms just below the shoulders, looking her up and down. "You're all right?" She nodded wordlessly, tears in her eyes. He reached up to stroke the side of her face, and said quietly, "I thought I'd lost you." He pulled her into his embrace, and repeated the words into her hair, "I thought I'd lost you forever."

She pulled back and looked into his face, "I will never leave you."

He let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, then in as calm a voice as he could muster, asked her what had happened.

She rapidly gave him a summary, glossing over the fear and despair she had felt, and giving full credit to Lennier for his courage and quick thinking. Looking down at the stretcher, she saw that Lennier's eyes were unfocused and unblinking. In a sudden panic, she called to him, "Lennier? Lennier, are you all right? Look at me!" She held tight to John, and his arm encircled her, as they both looked down at the prone Minbari with concern. She noted that Lennier opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, as if too weak to speak. After John had thanked Lennier, he insisted that she also, see the medic, and they followed the stretcher to the medical facility aboard the ship.

Delenn let the medics go over her thoroughly, but as she expected, they found nothing but bruises and cuts. She apparently had a slight concussion, and they told her to be careful and have someone wake her periodically during her rest time. She was about to protest, when she looked over at John, and saw he was barely concealing his anxiety. Smiling at the medic instead, she agreed to follow his instructions to the letter. It would not be that great a hardship. Since her marriage she had found herself awakening at odd hours of the night, surreptitiously watching John sleeping next to her. Missing that closeness on her journey, she had marveled at how rapidly their lives had merged. She had even grown fond of his snoring; as it was more evidence that he was there, with her, and alive.

Heading back to their quarters, where she had some spare clothes stored, John filled her in on the war, and its untidy conclusion. Apparently they were expected to go back down to Centauri Prime for Londo's coronation, but they had several hours to fill before they had to leave. She planned a shower and a change of clothes, and perhaps time to check again on Lennier. The medics had already told her they planned to transfer him back to a ship returning to Babylon 5 for further treatment. She knew that she couldn't reveal Lennier's declaration to John without shaming her former aide, but the emotional disturbance surrounding his revelation had unlocked some perturbations in her own mind. Once, they were back in their quarters, she headed for the shower, hoping to clarify her thoughts before she had to talk with her husband.

He was talking to someone on the com when she emerged, hair dripping down her back under the thin bathrobe she'd found. It was one of John's, and engulfed her twice over, but she wasn't ready to don the formal robes she would have to wear for a coronation ceremony. The Centauri would take note of everyone's clothes, and mark any fashion errors against her. She sighed; sometimes the superficial role demanded by the Alliance was more wearing than the actual work. She worked at getting her hair dry, ruffling it with a towel, while John finished his call. The indulgence of a hot water shower, short as it was, and with recycled water, had been called for after her ordeal. She leaned over him from behind as he scribbled some notes on a pad next to the comscreen.

"That was G'Kar. The ceremony is set, and he'll meet us at the space dock with an escort from Londo. The new Emperor doesn't want any trouble." He turned to Delenn, and grinned, "We'll take our own escort as well. Just in case." He pulled her down, onto his lap, and hugged her tightly. "You smell good."

"I smell clean. That is enough for now."

He buried his face in her neck, ignoring the damp hair, and reveling in the familiar feel of her body next to his. Feeling her tense reaction, he let her stand up, and gesturing towards the couch, said, "Come on. Sit down and tell me what's wrong."

"What do you mean?" she said defensively.

"I don't know. Something's upset you. Is it Lennier? The medicos say he'll be fine; up and around in no time."

She bowed her head, trying to decide if she wanted to bring this up now. "I've been thinking…"

"That, I could tell." His voice softened as he considered how long she'd been adrift, waiting for rescue, waiting for death. "What were you thinking about that has you so upset?"

She sighed. He wasn't going to let it go, and neither could she. "You remember, before you left for Z'ha'dum, what I told you?"

He looked surprised, but on reflection, realized the situations were not so dissimilar. How many times now had each of them watched the other march into a life-threatening situation, having to remain behind, to wait and worry? Sitting down beside her, he took her hand, "You told me that, if I never believed another word you said, believe that I love you. Did you think I'd forgotten?"

She shook her head. "What I never told you, was how much that cost me to say. In my culture, it was a terrible thing to do."

"Why terrible?" He wondered why she was bringing this up now.

"Because you belonged to another. Once I knew that Anna was alive, I should never have spoken those words. Once I did, I was bound to appeal to her for forgiveness, and renounce my declaration to you."

John squeezed her hand, and said, "Anna would have understood. She was a generous, compassionate woman, and if it had really been her that came back, she wouldn't have held your words or your feelings against you. Believe me." He looked at her consideringly, "Renounce your declaration? Could you have done that?"

"Not without lying, and that would have just been a different stain on my honor. That is the problem…" This last she said quietly, as if to herself.

Light dawned in John's eyes, as he began to see where this was possibly heading. If Lennier had said something to her, he certainly didn't want the man to perform some embarrassingly elaborate ritual of forgiveness. That would simply make things worse. "In my culture, this would not be a big deal, Delenn. Your telling me that, at that time, was what I clung to…it's what brought me back. Don't waste time regretting it. I certainly don't. You saved my life with those words." He reached out and pulled her close, stroking her drying hair. "Now, you'd better get ready. We have a new emperor to greet."

She nodded, and stood up, moving towards the bedroom.

As she finished getting dressed, she wondered if Lennier's admission would lead him out of her life, or back to her side. As she went back and forth over the possibilities in her mind, she realized with despair that convention would preclude her even discussing it with him. Their tangled relationship would be unraveled by time, or cut off by one of them. It wouldn't be ended by her; she relied on his friendship far too much. From the moment he'd come into her life, he had been a constant source of support, and he was one of the few ties to her past life that she had left. If their paths were indeed diverging, it would cause her great pain, and she had prayed he would find his way back to her. She might never be able to tell him how much she loved him; might never dare reveal the depths of her affection. The words would remain unspoken, until the day any declaration would help, and not harm, her dearest friend.