ooOoo

Dancing In The Dark

ooOoo

Sheridan had come to know the route from his quarters to the Zen garden better than any other; he could follow it without thinking, finding himself there before even being aware of his intended destination. But always looking for something. Someone. He knew it better than the route to the Command Deck, to the War Room - to any of the places that defined what he was: soldier, leader, governor. If your life were to be defined by the paths you knew best, what would this one say about him?

And tonight he had started on it even before realising; his feet had been moving before his mind had had a chance to catch up. Della Sheridan had not been exaggerating when she had said she was persistent. Not that she had needed to be.

'Captain.' She had smiled with a familiar serenity - and a familiar playfulness, though in her it was more pronounced. 'I understand that earlier today Ambassador Delenn had attempted to convene a meeting with you.'

The air in the corridor was noticeable for its freshness after the fug that had built up in his quarters; he took a deep breath, attempting to clear his head, and looked at her, puzzled. 'She-'

'I understand that she was looking for you and that she encountered my husband instead; I fear that we have been somewhat disruptive today and I do apologise. However, there is time now and it seems to be convenient for both of you. You will find her in what I believe is called the Zen garden.' One hand already hovered over the panel beside his door. 'You don't mind if we carry on a little longer in there, do you?'

'I- No-'

'Thank-you. Goodnight.' She had smiled again, closing his own door in his face and he had started walking, unthinking, halfway there before he had even known it. Della could manipulate a situation just as sweetly and as skillfully as Delenn ever could. Congratulations and sympathies, that was how John had phrased it. Sheridan returned the sentiment silently.

He entered the garden, following the paved walkway deeper into the greenery than was usual for their meetings. For a few seconds he thought that she wasn't there, that she had taken the opportunity of Della's absence to slip away-

A flash of red against the dark green: she was leaning over a flowering bush, taking in the scent of the flowers. Above them was the great curved window of the Fresh Aire - the smoked glass allowed light through but kept those both inside and out safe from prying eyes. Light and music spilled out into the night air, heavy with the flowers' perfume. He tried to be quiet, tried not to disturb her as he approached - wanting just those few minutes to watch her. To take her in.

She straightened as he came nearer, turning to greet him, seeming to sense rather than hear him. That ran both ways, he thought; he always knew when she was near. She smiled.

'Hello.'

'Hello.' He felt so stupidly self-conscious. Tongue-tied. The drivel that would come out of his mouth whenever he was- Sheridan almost laughed at himself. 'How was your evening?'

'It was...' She smiled a little, frowned. 'It was enjoyable ... and very ... interesting.'

He let out a breath. 'Yeah, I'll bet.'

The soft light caught her hair, the planes of her face turned up to his. 'Della is... It was strange, to spend time with her. I find her and ... Mr Sheridan ... an unusual couple; the way they speak to one another is so strange. I did not understand them.'

And Delenn would not be the only one, he thought. 'I think that's just their way of having private conversations in public.'

'Yes.' Her eyes were on his face. 'I believe that we all find ways of doing that.'

'Yes, you're probably right.'

At times her eyes were like mirrors - clear and beautiful and giving nothing away; at others... At others, like now, they were warm, measureless. He dropped his gaze, focus landing on the bush and its bright blooms beside them. Big red blooms. Red for passion. For danger, for warning.

'They match your dress.'

'They are very beautiful.'

It was an impulse, something else he began before even realising; Sheridan picked one of the heads, reaching up to slip it into the dark coil of her hair. She inclined her head towards him instinctively, her eyes still on his face.

A bouquet or even just one bloom...

His fingers brushed against the othla'dun of her crest and she caught her breath. The sensation resonated through her; he was unaware of what he had done, of what it meant, she knew that. The lover's caress. His fingers were strong but surprisingly delicate in their touch. His hand dropped to his side.

'Thank-you.' Delenn could feel her cheeks burn and was grateful for the deep, scented shadow in this little corner of the garden. Their garden, she thought fiercely and allowed herself the luxury of not correcting that thought. Not this night, just for this once. The music from above changed tempo - a slow, swaying beat that suited the low lights.

'That is lovely, the music; do you know what it is?'

Sheridan looked up; through the curved glass the rotating couples were visible only indistinctly - blurred silhouettes moving in time to something not entirely dictated by the music. 'It sounds old - very old. Dance music, twenty-first century - maybe older.' He smiled at her. 'I'm no expert.'

She still had held her head back and he studied the curve of her throat, the hollow at its base just visible above the collar of her robes. It fluttered slightly.

'Do you dance?' he asked suddenly.

She hesitated. The slow, formal steps sometimes carried out at Minbari religious ceremonies could not truly be called dancing, not the way a Human would define it. It was certainly never seen in an entertainment or as part of a courtship ritual. 'It is not an art that is practised on Minbar; I have observed it at diplomatic functions but I have never attempted it.'

'Well, this seems like a good time to learn. You never know when it might come in handy,' he added, self-conscious once more, his words seeming to hang in the air. He held out his hand to her. There was another moment's hesitation and then she came to him, her fingers curving around his. Sheridan led her a few steps onto the paving, further into the light. Delenn glanced up at the window, uncertain, at the indistinct couples.

'They can't see out,' he said. 'And they're all too occupied with each other to worry about anyone else.'

A hint of a smile at her lips. 'Yes.'

He placed one hand on her waist and she took a step closer to him, her fingers tightening around his where he still held her. 'Put your other hand on my shoulder. There, we're ready!'

'How will I know what to do?' Her voice was low, catching in her throat; so close now that she could feel his warmth and she remembered how it had felt to be even closer to him than she was now, to feel his arms around her, shielding her, as though he would do anything to keep her from harm.

'There's nothing to it,' he replied, 'you just follow my lead.'

Delenn smiled again. 'Always.' To the end of the universe, she thought; she kept the words back, the gift of her love that she so longed to give. He was not quite ready to accept it. Not yet, but soon. She could see that, clearly, in his eyes, feel it in his arm around her waist.

He moved slowly - simple steps that she followed obediently, staring down at their feet.

'It's traditional to look up when you're doing this,' he said, gentle humour behind his words. Delenn raised her head and found his eyes. He smiled. 'Hello.'

'Hello.' The lines of tension had faded from his face, she thought. 'Have you enjoyed your evening?'

'It was... Well, it was entertaining if nothing else. I don't think I've ever heard two people talk at each other quite so much as Mike and John. I'm starting to think they breathe through their ears to get all the words out.'

Her eyes crinkled. 'They all seem to be very fond of one another.'

'Yeah; it's nice to see, I guess.'

'And you are now friends with Mr. Sheridan?'

Sheridan let out a breath, his eyebrows rising wryly. 'I suppose he's not so bad when you get to know him.'

Her eyes wandered over his face. 'No.'

He had come to recognise her playful tone. 'He's not even all that bad-looking.'

Delenn's lips twitched. 'His looks are not entirely objectionable.'

'Not entirely? I'll remember that.'

She laughed lightly and he was mesmerised - as always. He held her closer, feeling the curves of her body fit against his. And he allowed himself to think that it were as though she belonged there; he had thought it before, in passing. That first time, even though she had been worn down by the rawness of her grief and he had held her, helpless to offer comfort in any other way, there had been that small part of him that had marvelled at the naturalness of her in his arms. Her eyes had drifted closed, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. He felt the softness of her hair against his cheek, breathed in its perfume. They moved in slow, tight circles, lost in each other and the scent of the night.

ooOoo

'You know the way, huh? Excellent sense of direction, huh?'

'Oh, be quiet – I meant to bring us here.'

Mike once told me that there is no sincerity like a woman telling a lie – I figure that he may be onto something there. We'd ended up somewhere light and bright and I could hear rattling cuttlery and music. A sign on the wall said 'Fresh Aire'. I jerked my head at it.

'You know, if you'd just come here to begin with, you could have saved everyone a great deal of heartache.'

'Oh, skip it you big-talker.'

I grinned at her. 'Come on, plaything; let's get a night-cap.'

We strolled in and I took a look around. It was a nice place - small tables designed for cosy dinner-dates, discreet lighting and lots of plant-life of the hanging variety, which I suppose was appropriate in a place named Babylon. We made it a few steps when a little character I took to be the maître d' popped out at us. He looked at me and beamed in that way that's both low-key and overjoyed at the same time - like they've been hanging around pining for you to come in.

'Ah, good-evening, sir. So nice to see you again - it has been a long time.'

'Uh... Yes.'

'You wish for a table?'

'No, no, we're just stopping at the bar.'

He bowed slightly, obviously impressed by my good taste. 'Of course.' His eyes dropped from me to Della and down to Archie and his smiled stuttered. 'Do you wish to check ... that?'

I had my arm around Della's waist and pulled her a little closer. 'Nah, it's okay - she's housebroken.'

Della looked at me reproachfully and we sailed past, steering ourselves in the direction of the bar that took up a quiet corner of the restaurant. 'Not to be indecorous,' Della murmured, 'but how are we paying for this?'

'When we're done, I'll create a diversion and you head for the door. We'll meet up two hours later - I'll be the girl on the corner smoking two cigarettes,' I said out of the corner of my mouth.

'Ah, your Saturday night look,' she said out of the corner of hers.

I laughed. 'We did well at the poker game, plaything.'

'I thought that you weren't supposed to be playing for money - I should have known that that wouldn't last.'

Archie scrambled up onto a stool and put his chin on the bar. Della pulled herself up next to him with that languid grace she gets that late at night - or that early in the morning, depending on which way you look at it. The barkeep bustled over.

'What are you having?' I asked her.

'Rye,' she said. 'With a rye chaser.'

'Better make that two.'

The barkeep gave me one of those efficient 'Certainly, sir's and bustled back off but not before he'd looked at Della and looked puzzled. I sat next to her and rested my elbows on the counter. There was a small dancefloor and a few couples weaving around it to the slow number being put out by the sleepy-looking band. The barkeep arrived back with our drinks; I handed over the piece of plastic that did duty for currency in that place; he did something to it in a machine, handed it back and melted away. It was good rye - smooth and just dry enough.

Della propped her chin on her hand and studied me for a moment. 'How was it? Hanging out with the boys?'

'Oh, same old-same old. Swapping war stories and all the usual nonsense.'

'Do you miss it?' She took a sip of her drink and watched me over the rim of the glass.

'Miss what?'

'The military.'

There are times when I wonder if I've spoken out loud and just not realised - or if Della has some sort of secret mind-reading ability. She looked calm, thoughtful. 'It was a big part of my life for a long time. Scratch that - it was my life for a long time. I miss some of the people.' I tilted my head and looked at her. 'Were you worried about me? Good God, I think you actually care.'

She shook her head. 'I don't care - I'm just used to you, that's all.'

The band had gone quiet for a bit but they struck up again: a slow, sweet tune with a singer crooning out the words. It took a second before I realised I knew it. Della turned her head, listening.

'That's- Oh, John, do you remember?'

I could hardly forget. That first night in Havana. I'd stepped out onto the balcony of our room; you could hear the ocean, thunder rumbling in the foothills and music trickling up from the ballroom below. The air had been heavy with night-blooming jasmine and the same perfume of gardenias that the singer had been going on about. And then there had been Della. She'd appeared in a cloud of sheer blue something, looking like Venus had just dropped in to say hello. We'd danced then, right there, until the music had stopped - until we'd gone inside and found another dance to do.

I slid off the stool and held my hand out to her. 'Come on.'

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes glowed. She followed me across the floor until we reached the other swaying couples and I held her, her breath warm against my neck. I remembered earlier when I'd walked Delenn through the corridors, how she'd fit on my arm well enough but not perfectly. Not like this, not like her. This was perfect.

ooOoo

It was easy to forget everything else, just for those stolen moments. Sheridan barred all other thoughts rigidly, refusing entry to anything that wasn't Delenn, that wasn't now. One did slip through. John and Della. They were an attractive couple - that easy grace and obvious affection. No, not affection, he thought, adoration. They were so wrapped up in one another but they still managed to have so much feeling and sympathy for everyone else. Nine days. They hadn't given themselves much time to think, perhaps that was the secret; if he didn't think, if he simply acted as he wanted to-

It was not that easy, not for them.

Delenn raised her head from his shoulder and looked into his face. 'John? You are tense.' It was not a question.

He smiled lightly. 'I'm fine.'

She kept looking at him. 'You are worried about your guests?'

How did she do it? he wondered, not for the first time. How could she have known him for so short a time and yet know him so well?

'Draal will do all that he can to find a way to return them home. They will be restored to their proper place.'

'I'm sure he will. It isn't that; I-' Sheridan released a breath. 'It's sort of like seeing an old vid come to life except that we seem to be playing the starring roles - or a version of ourselves, anyway. It's ... confusing. It's just that when I look at them, it's like seeing us, a reflection of us... It's not easy to explain.'

Words she had read a long time ago came back to her. 'We see through a glass darkly, and the truth we now see in fragments we will see then face to face. Everything has its time. They are at a different place in their journey; that is all. We have our own path to follow.'

'I can wait. As long as it takes. As long as you need.' They were still, standing close and still holding on. Delenn moved her hand from his shoulder, her fingers gently touching his face, reminding herself of the feel of his skin.

'I also. And while we wait, we have these moments. They are precious, and we should treasure them, for they will never come again.'

He sucked in a breath, echoes of the past – or was it the future? – strong. He held her now as he would hold her then. He would hold her then, and for all the years in between. Was now the time? Was this the moment when he would tell her and commit them both? Her fingers pressed against his lips.

'The music is starting again. Shall we continue our dance?'

He held her tightly, no longer guiding her steps but simply moving with her. It was fitting, he thought: their relationship was like a dance, a set pattern of steps through which they moved at the pace set by the music of their lives. As long as it ended as it had begun, with her in his arms, he was content to follow the melody, moment to moment.

ooOoo

Della sighed softly, a little noise in the back of her throat; she moved her head, her lips brushing against the side of my neck, just above my collar. 'We're actually dancing through the stars, do you realise that?' Her voice was husky.

'I know. That's one view you'd never get tired of.'

She laughed, still soft. 'You'd never get tired of, you mean. I can just imagine the look on your face when you first saw it. I'll bet that was the single finest moment of your life.'

I held her to me, felt her strength and her tenderness. 'I'd never been so scared in my whole life.' She looked up at me, puzzled. I knew every line of her face by heart but I studied her then, like I was trying to memorise her all over again. 'You weren't there. I had no idea where you were, how I could find you. I looked out and the whole damn universe was standing between us and all I could think about was that I would do anything to get across it, to get back to you.'

She swallowed, hard and she was so close to me I could feel her breath catching. I felt her words more than I heard them, her voice so low in my ear. And I held her for a moment more, pressed my lips against her forehead. I kept my arm around her while we left the dancefloor. I didn't let go of her while we collected her purse and Archie, and not for a long time after that.

ooOoo

Zack Allen would be the first to admit that when it came to Minbari physiology his knowledge was limited. He knew a Minbari when he saw one, he knew the basics and that was about as far as it went. When it came to a Minbari who was no longer wholly Minbari, he was a blank. Maybe her bonecrest, what was left of it, wasn't actually attached anymore. Maybe she could take it off and fit it on each morning. Maybe that's what explained why Ambassador Delenn had looked different each time he'd seen her that day.

But it did not explain how she managed to be in two places at the same time. Nor the captain, for that matter.

And that had very definitely been Captain John J. Sheridan in the Fresh Aire and unless he'd found himself a Human woman who was a ringer for the Minbari ambassador, that had definitely been Delenn he'd had his arm around.

Just like it was definitely Sheridan in the garden, dancing with someone who was unmistakeably Ambassador Delenn.

Zack had watched them for a few seconds: they had been utterly oblivious and he had felt more than a little uncomfortable. He liked the captain and he liked Delenn - he did not like the thought of disturbing what was obviously a private moment. Very private. He liked even less the idea that they might think he was spying on them. Zack turned away, trying to tiptoe across the grass and heading gratefully for the arched doorway that led back to the corridors.

Join EarthForce, Live the Adventure. That's how it had been sold to him. There was certainly plenty of adventure; if anything, some days he could do with a little less adventure. Then there was also living the strange, the weird and the crazy. That may not have made such a good slogan, though. Zack passed a hand over his face and thought about his quarters, a shower and a nice cold beer. A figure passed him and he glanced up automatically, barely registering the face before it had passed his line of sight.

'Oh, hey, Chief.'

'Zack.'

'Hey, Zack.'

He stopped in the corridor, turned and looked down it at the two people heading for the corner. Two of them. He scrunched up his eyes for a second and looked again. There were still two of them. One of them was even wearing Garibaldi's hat.

Maybe it was something in the water. Or in the food. Zack made his feet start moving, taking him towards his quarters. Yeah, the food. Perhaps the catering staff had started putting anti-depressants in the food and one of the little-known side-effects was that it made sleep-deprived sergeants have hallucinations.

Zack scrubbed at his face again. Maybe, just to be on the safe side, that beer wasn't such a good idea after all.

Around the corner, Michael and his new friend strolled along companionably.

'He's a good kid,' Mike said.

'Who?'

He jerked his head backwards. 'Zack.'

'Oh, yeah – he's okay.'

Mike, one hand in his pocket, held out the other and turned it over palm up. 'You still haven't told me what the second favourite thing is.'

'Oh, yeah.' Michael grinned at him. 'How do you feel about Duck Dodgers?'

Mike blinked. 'Say what now?'

Michael's face fell. 'Duck Dodgers. Jeez, I would have thought that you of all people... Look, are you seriously telling me you don't know Duck Dodgers?'

'Uh... I know Buck Rogers.'

Michael shook his head. 'No, no, no. Look, okay, you've got Daffy Duck, okay? And-'

'Hold it.' Mike looked at him intently. 'Are you offering me something with Daffy Duck?'

'You're damn right I am.'

Mike grinned broadly. 'Why the hell didn't you say so? Lead on, brother, lead on.'

ooOoo

Dancing should certainly be one of Della's rituals, Delenn thought drowsily. Perhaps it would be counted as such already – she would ask Della when she saw her. But she didn't want to think about the next day or anything else. She could not, even if she had wanted to. Her thought processes, usually so clear, felt dulled, hazy.

It was a wonderful sensation.

There was a strange, smoky scent clinging to his clothes but she barely noticed it; rather, she caught the scent that lay behind it, the scent that seemed to be him alone. Her hand had moved from its resting place on his shoulder, curving further around until it lay at the back of his neck. She twined through her fingers the hair that just curled over his collar; it was like her own and yet unlike, its texture a rough satin. Another wonderful sensation – and strangely addictive.

It could have been many cycles that they had been like this, she thought: locked together, unaware of anything and everything else.

'The music has stopped,' she said softly, eventually.

'Has it?' His voice was barely above a murmur, a caress against her ear. And he still held her close, following the steps they had created for themselves.

Delenn smiled, kept her head against his shoulder. The universe had its own song, her father had told her that. It had sung itself into existence and its music resonated through everything, connecting everything that was and had ever been; if you could learn how to listen correctly, you too could hear the melody it sang to itself. There would always be music, even when they could not hear it.

The lights had dimmed further; in their little corner of the garden the shadows had deepened and there were few other visitors by this time. Of those who did pass, none paid them any attention. No-one noticed them. They were just two people, together yet apart, dancing in the dark.

TBC