It was 19:47. Exactly two minutes after the last time he had checked his watch. John Sheridan fidgeted impatiently with the button on the sleeve of his shirt. Delenn was never late when it came to matters of state, but he hadn't had enough experience to judge if she was the same way with personal meetings. He hoped he would get to have more experience in this aspect. But right now, he was getting absolutely none, because Delenn was forty-seven…make that forty-eight minutes late. He hadn't thought it possible for anyone to take longer getting ready for a date than a human female. Perhaps Minbari were even worse? He found that difficult to believe.

He was starting to get nervous. He had intended this night to be a date. Ever since he had professed his love for Delenn as she lay in Medlab, he had been dying to take her out properly. They were a couple now…right? She had been more than amenable to that, or so it had seemed to him. What if he had imagined it? She'd been pretty badly injured at the time – what if she had been less lucid than he'd thought, and in truth she wanted nothing to do with him?

Sheridan shook his head. He was being ridiculous – letting his imagination get carried away with him. He liked to think of himself as being down-to-earth (down-to-station?), but when Delenn was involved, all bets were off. Here he was questioning everything and desperately hoping she truly felt the same way he did. He was truly overreacting. But all the same, he decided to go to Delenn's quarters and make sure everything was okay. That couldn't hurt, right?

He walked to the ambassadorial wing of Green Sector and, his heart fluttering more than he would have liked to admit, rang the chime. There was no answer. After a couple of more button-pushes that yielded the same result, he gave the speaker a try.

"Delenn, it's John…Sheridan." Did he need to clarify? Too late now. "We…we were supposed to go out to dinner tonight," he stammered. "It's okay if you forgot, or if you're busy," he quickly followed up. "I just wanted to…check in…" He trailed off. The door remained steadfastly closed. Either Delenn had absolutely no desire to see or speak with him, or she wasn't at home. He decided to be optimistic, and assume the latter.

He could have just left it at that – perhaps Delenn had been called away on some urgent business and simply had not had the opportunity to inform him that she would be unable to meet him that night. But with everything that had been happening recently, it was more likely than not that any urgent business of Delenn's would be of importance to him as well. Something just didn't seem quite right to him. So he decided to pursue the matter.

The next logical thing to do was to see if Lennier knew where Delenn was, so Sheridan headed down the hall to his quarters. He was reluctant to disturb the polite Minbari aide after hours, especially since his workload, like the rest of theirs, had been so increased recently. But if anyone knew where Delenn was, it would be Lennier.

But there was no response from within Lennier's quarters, either. Sheridan just stood in the hallway for a minute, trying to figure out what to do next. For a moment, his mind flashed back to that terrible day less than a month previous…the last time he couldn't find Delenn. He'd felt sick to his stomach and hot with anger and dizzy with fear all at the same time, and he never wanted to feel that way again. To feel that way now would definitely be an overreaction – after all, then he had known that she had been abducted and was being held by murderous psychopaths. For all he knew, right now she was in the middle of some involved Minbari meditation ritual, blissfully unaware of his concern for her. But something could be wrong. And if it was, he needed to know. Sheridan headed back to Blue Sector.

Less than three minutes later, he stuck his head inside the security office. Garibaldi sat with his crossed feet propped up on his desk, a mug of coffee in one hand and a report in the other. He must have caught Sheridan's movement out of the corner of his eye, because he looked up, then rolled his chair backward and put his feet on the floor.

"Captain, hey. What's up?"

"Michael…I was hoping you could do something for me."

"Sure. What's going on?"

"It's probably nothing." Garibaldi raised an eyebrow, but let him finish. "It's just…I can't find Delenn. We were supposed to meet at the Zocalo for dinner an hour ago, but she never showed."

Garibaldi didn't even try to hide his grin. "Oo-ooo, the Captain's got da-ate!" he sang out happily.

"Well, the Captain thought he had a date. Until his date didn't show up," grumbled Sheridan. "Look, I just want to make sure she's okay. Can you find her?"

"You try her quarters?"

"Yes, I tried her quarters."

"You try Lennier's quarters?"

"Yes, I tried Lennier's quarters." Sheridan was starting to get annoyed, but Garibaldi seemed to have run out of really obvious questions just then, and his expression and tone got a little more serious.

"Okay. Yeah, let me see what I can do." Garibaldi tapped his link, the familiar bleep ringing out too loudly through the little office.

"Yeah, Chief?" Sargent Allan's New York accent came through the little speaker.

"Hey, Zack. Have you see Ambassador Delenn? She missed…an appointment with the Captain and seems to have gone AWOL."

"Not today, personally. Hang on, let me ask the guys." Zack linked out for a moment, then came back on, sounding a bit more hesitant than he had before. "Chief? No one here's seen her today, but Anderson says Beckley went to Medlab to get some meds for a stomachache earlier and mentioned he thought he saw her there. No context – that's all I got."

"Thanks, Zack." Garibaldi signed off as Sheridan's stomach did a complete three hundred and sixty degree flip inside his abdomen. Delenn was in Medlab? Something was really wrong. Desperately trying to stamp down the panic that was so strange to be feeling, he tried to tell himself that it couldn't possibly be that bad – the security officer who had seen her there would have said if he had seen her actively dying or something like that. But then again, by this time it was fourth-hand information.

"Thanks, Michael. I have to go." He saw Garibaldi do a little wave out of the corner of his eye as he turned on his heel and took off running at full speed across Blue Sector. He practically burst through the door of Medlab, putting on the brakes suddenly to avoid crashing into a passing nurse. He lifted a hand in an awkward, apologetic wave, all the while looking around wildly. The nurse he had nearly bowled over took pity on him.

"She's in there."

Sheridan felt himself flush. She had known exactly who he was looking for. Did all two hundred and fifty thousand people on the station know how he felt about Delenn? But then he realized where the nurse was pointing. The ICU.

Delenn.

Swallowing hard, he turned toward the indicated direction. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and time seemed to slow down. But suddenly, almost before he could process what was happening, Delenn came flying through the door of the room the nurse had pointed to and threw herself into his arms. Sheridan felt more tension than he would have thought possible for one person to hold flow out of his body in the matter of an instant and let his arms encircle her, relief taking the place of his all-consuming worry. But it did not last, because he realized quickly that Delenn was crying. No, sobbing. Her hot tears soaked the collar of his dress shirt as she buried her face in his neck, and her whole body shook and hitched.

"Delenn," he murmured, her name sounding beautiful as ever as it passed his lips, despite the obvious gravity of the situation. "Delenn, what's the matter?"

"Oh John!" she sobbed, fighting to regain enough composure just to be able to tell him what was happening. "John, it's terrible! It's just terrible…"

"What?" Gently, he pulled her away from his body so he could look into her eyes. They were red-rimmed and wet, and her face was streaked with tears.

"It's Lennier," she managed to choke out. "Oh John, he's so ill. Doctor Franklin does not know if he will recover, and I…" Her breath shuddered as she inhaled, and Sheridan instinctively tightened his grip on her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"John, I never told him how important he is to me. I always just assumed that he knew, but suddenly I realize that maybe that isn't enough. He is not just my aide; he is my friend. And a very dear friend at that. And if I lose him…" Delenn finally broke off from her ramblings as her tears overcame her again, and Sheridan drew her close. He just let her cry for a while, right there in the hallway of the ICU, dropping kisses into her hair and rubbing slow circles into her back with his hand. After what was probably several minutes, Delenn finally straightened, sniffling but clearly trying to regain her composure. Sheridan searched his pockets and managed to produce a clean handkerchief, which he held out to her. It was, of course, of no help in the greater situation at hand, but Sheridan was desperate to do something.

It was the second time he had seen Delenn truly heartbroken. The first had been after the Drafa plague had killed all of the Markab. Sheridan remembered walking down to the huge vault door, not knowing what he'd find but extremely certain in the knowledge that it couldn't be good. And the whole time, even back then, thoughts of one person had permeated his consciousness above all else. Thoughts of her. The memory of walking through the vault, sometimes unable to find a place to put his feet for the sheer number of dead bodies strewn everywhere still terrorized his dreams. It had been like being in an underground battlefield. And then he had found her, curled up in Lennier's arms. Both Minbari been silent, still, with haunted looks in their eyes like Sheridan hadn't seen since the war - the look of someone who had seen far too much death in far too short a time. Poor Lennier hadn't said a single word to anyone for two whole days after that. But Delenn…Delenn had thrown herself into Sheridan's arms, just like now. How he had wished then, and how he wished now, that he could take the pain away. He'd give everything, he realized, if only Delenn wouldn't hurt anymore. But it didn't work like that – not then, and not now. So he did what he could, and he hoped she understood.

With trembling hands, Delenn accepted the proffered handkerchief and dabbed her eyes with it.

"I am sorry I didn't call you to say I'd miss dinner," she said, still clearly trying to keep her voice from shaking, and being only a little successful.

Sheridan realized he had completely forgotten about the reason he had even found himself there in the first place.

"Don't be sorry, Delenn," he said, taking her hand. "You being here for Lennier right now is so much more important than that."

Clearly he'd said the right thing, because she hugged him again. The embrace was considerably briefer this time, however – she soon pulled away and, silently, led him by the hand over to the window that looked into the intensive care room. Delenn pressed into Sheridan's side, her fingers entwined in his, as they looked in together.

Sheridan could see why Delenn was so upset. Lennier looked even worse than he'd imagined, just based on Delenn's disjointed, semi-hysterical ramblings. The young Minbari lay in the bed with his eyes closed. He was so sickly pale that it made the light blue markings on his head stand out. And while Minbari eyes tended to look sunken anyway, Lennier's were so much more so, which Sheridan knew to be a sign of dehydration. And Lennier was hooked up to a slew of medical devices – nasal oxygen cannula, pulse oximeter on the finger, twelve-lead electrocardiogram, IV fluid bag, the whole lot of it. Sheridan did, of course, know to expect this in an ICU, but it was difficult for him to see them on Lennier. Sheridan wasn't sure if he could comfortably call Lennier his friend – he didn't really know him well enough – but he did genuinely like him. Lennier was polite and kind, and he clearly meant the world to Delenn. So yeah - it was hard to see someone like that looking like some strange, pale robot being kept functioning by wires and tubes.

"What's wrong with him?" Sheridan couldn't think of a better way to word that question. He wished he could have.

Delenn drew a shaky breath. "Doctor Franklin says he has an infection in his bloodstream. Sepsis, he called it."

Sheridan tried too late to suppress his wince. He had seen that before. During the war with the Minbari, he and a young Lieutenant had taken out a little scout ship to do recon. Unfortunately, a Minbari fighter had discovered them. Sheridan had managed to maneuver the ship out of the way so while they were hit by the enemy fire, they were not destroyed. But it had taken out their engines, and it had been all he could do to guide the ship down to a small moon. Luckily, the atmosphere had been conducive to human life, so life support hadn't been an issue. But in the landing process – which had definitely turned into more of a crash – Sheridan's companion had sliced his leg open on a piece of debris from the wreckage. Sheridan had managed to stop the bleeding, but with no antiseptic to clean the wound with, it had quickly become infected. It had been horrible to watch – the quick onset of fever, shaking, delirium – a once strong soldier reduced to a trembling wreck. And there was nothing Sheridan could do. Earthforce had found them three days after the crash. Sheridan had boarded the ship home alone.

Delenn obviously picked up on his reaction, because she turned to look at him, her gray eyes alight with worry.

"You have seen this before?"

There was no point in lying to her. "Yes. It…it's not a nice way to die." Delenn seemed to wilt like a flower whose owner had abandoned it in the absence of rain. Sheridan hurried to try to reassure her. "But Lennier is getting the best care I can think of – if anyone can help him, Doctor Franklin can. And he's got you at his side – that has to count for something."

"I hope you are right," Delenn murmured, her eyes fixated on the pale, still figure through the window. "I feel so helpless. I hate this feeling."

"I know." Sheridan pressed her hand. "I know exactly how you feel." Because I felt that way when you were bleeding in my arms, not so many days ago. But he did not speak his thoughts – this was about Delenn and her feelings, not his own.

Delenn passed the handkerchief over her eyes once more. "I…I should go back and sit with Lennier. I promised him I would stay with him. He was so frightened in his last wave of delirium…I do not think he should be alone."

"I'm sure having you here means a lot to him," said Sheridan. His words were finally rewarded with the smallest of smiles from Delenn. Even though he couldn't argue that Delenn was right, a part of him called out for her to stay so he could continue to comfort her. But he refocused that desire.

"Delenn…is there anything I can do?"

She rested a hand on his well-shaven cheek, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his chin, leaving just the faintest trace of a leftover tear on his skin.

"Only if you are a man of prayer."

He nodded once, taking her meaning. And then, with one last squeeze of his hand, she was gone. He stood at the window for a few moments, watching as she sat down in the little rolling chair, took Lennier's hand, and bowed her head. She sat still, then, obviously consumed by some doubtlessly intricate prayer. But despite the ritualistic nature of Minbari prayers, Sheridan could see by the emotion and determination etched on Delenn's face that this prayer was different – Delenn's soul was raw before the universe.

Deciding that there was nothing more he could do for Delenn, or Lennier for that matter, at the moment, Sheridan pulled himself away from the window. He wandered down the hall until he found himself at Franklin's office, and he was a little surprised to find the doctor in there rather than with one of his patients. A little impulsively, Sheridan stuck his head in the door.

"Stephen."

Franklin looked up from the screen he had been studying with an overabundance of intent.

"John. Hey." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

"You look pretty rough, if you don't mind my saying," said Sheridan, stepping fully into the office. "Are you okay?"

Sheridan thought he saw just the tiniest flicker of resentment in his friend's eyes, but it was masked almost before he could process it. In its place was simple, but strong exhaustion. Franklin sighed and massaged his eyes with the heels of his hands for a second.

"Yeah, I'm okay. But I've got one very sick Minbari in my ICU, and I don't have the faintest clue why he's there."

Sheridan raised an eyebrow. He pulled out a chair that sat across from Franklin's desk and sat in it.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is yesterday Delenn and Marcus dragged Lennier in here because he'd collapsed, fully conscious, in the hallway. He protested, I checked him out - he was fine. No fever, just exhausted from the workload and pressure he's been under. And suddenly this afternoon I get a call from Delenn saying he's running a high fever. Now, a few years back, I went to a continuing education seminar and heard this great applied xenomedicine professor speak. He said that when dealing with our common alien species, there are three situations that should be considered an absolute medical emergency, no questions asked – chest pain in a Centauri, vomiting in a Pak'ma'ra, and high fever in a Minbari. They don't sweat – they can't cool themselves like we can, and it can get scary. Anyway, now Lennier's running a temp of well over a hundred and five, he's completely delirious, and his whole body's lighting up under a bacterial contamination scan."

"Sepsis," Sheridan said, trying to make sure he understood.

"Yeah, exactly. But the thing is, in most sepsis patients, the scan will show us where the source of the infection is located. Granted, the scans are internal only, but Lennier has no recent history of serious open wounds. It would have to be a pretty big contamination to overwhelm him like this. With a small cut or something, the body can usually fight off bugs that come in. You might get a little local infection – some swelling, maybe even draining pus. But this takes something big. I have no idea where the infection came from, and that worries me."

"Worries you how?" prompted Sheridan. He didn't like being thrown into a situation without being briefed first, and what was happening now felt exactly like that.

"He shouldn't be this sick," said Franklin, shaking his head. "It doesn't make any sense. And since I won't get the blood cultures back for over a day at least, all I can do now is treat empirically – give him the drugs I think will help him the best. But I can't get him stable. He's asleep right now, even though the sedatives I gave him should have worn off a couple of hours ago. It's better that he sleeps – he shivers less and isn't anxious, so it's better for his body temperature. But the fact that this has brought him so low so fast really worries me." Franklin fidgeted in his chair, and but suddenly looked Sheridan intently in the eyes. "But don't tell Delenn that. Not just yet. She's upset enough as it is."

Sheridan nodded. "All right, not for now. But went it comes down to it, I won't keep the truth from her. But I really hope it doesn't." He sighed, feeling his shoulders sag. "She's positively heartbroken, Stephen."

"I know," murmured Franklin. "I saw the two of you out in the hallway. And honestly, I'm glad she finally cried. She's been holding on by a thread all afternoon, trying to be strong for Lennier. She does know that this might not end well, and she's having difficulty accepting it, understandably. She's been through a lot these past few years, and I think having Lennier here for the past two has really helped her. The thought of losing him has shaken her to her core."

"She's even more upset now than she was when he was in a coma after the explosion," said Sheridan softly, and Franklin sighed.

"To be completely honest with you, I think she feels guilty this time. Yesterday, after Lennier collapsed, she kept talking about how terrible she felt for working him too hard and how it was all her fault. Now that the situation's escalated so much, I can only imagine how much worse she's feeling about it."

"But it isn't her fault!" exclaimed Sheridan, unable to help but feel a little angry at what Franklin was insinuating. The doctor held up his hands.

"Of course it's not. I know that, you know that, and Lennier was mortified that she would even suggest it. Delenn's emotions are so fragile right now that she can't even begin to process what may or may not be her fault. But I think that her being here is good for both of them. She feels like she's doing something, and her presence genuinely does calm him down. She's the only one he seems to recognize in his delirium, and he seems more comfortable with her around."

Sheridan sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, thinking. Finally, he straightened up and looked back at the doctor, leveling him one of his signature intense gazes.

"Stephen, he has to live. For Delenn's sake, Lennier has to live."

"John, I'm doing everything I can," said Franklin calmly. "You know that."

Sheridan blinked, feeling suddenly bad about what he had just said. "Of course you are. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"Because you care about her," said Franklin simply. "You can't stand to see her hurt any more than she can stand to watch Lennier suffer. Love makes us do things we would never otherwise expect, or even fathom, from ourselves."

"Yeah," said Sheridan, a bit absently, turning to look at the wall, on the other side of which lay the ICU hallway. "Yeah. I guess it does." He sighed and turned back to Franklin. "I imagine you've got a lot of work – I'll leave you to it. Let me know if there's anything I can do. And Stephen…thanks. I know you'll give everything you've got, and more. I don't think I tell you often enough how much I appreciate what you do around here."

Franklin's smile was genuine, but heartwrenchingly sad. "Thanks. I just hope it's enough."

Sheridan once again stared down the hallway, picturing Delenn in his mind as she no doubt was now – bowed over her stricken friend, grief and worry threatening to overwhelm her more with every second. His heart ached.

"Yeah, me too."