Title: Family, Families, and "Families"

Author: Third Charm

Fandom: Babylon 5

Pairings: Marcus/Neroon.

Story Type: Romantic Comedy, Drama

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and all subsequent major characters, plots, and ideas are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Inc. and Warner Bros. The following story was written only for the purposes of entertainment. No income had been made.

Warnings: VERY, VERY AU (As in canon is just a guideline folks!) and AT, not beta read, ATL death of a canon character, profanity, slash and erotic episodes.

Spoilers: You name it; it's in there.

Summary: This is a sequel "Shopping, Sheridan, and Secrets". What's a poor Ranger to do?

Acknowledgments: I must thank ckl for taking the time to beta read this story.

Author's Note: One Earth year equals 0.74 Minbari cycles. The Minbari words and phrases were found at the "JumpNow" website in John Hightower's Minbari dictionary, though not all are direct translations. The Italian came from badly remembered high school lessons, please forgive any errors.

Family, Families, and "Families"

After one of the most "interesting" afternoons Marcus had ever experienced, not to mention most luxurious teas that he had ever had the pleasure to dine on, he had finally been able to extract himself from the company of Susan, Delenn and the well meaning but still over-bearing Zocalo crowd. Marcus had used all the clandestine skills he possessed and slipped away unseen from the Zocalo. This escape had let the put upon Ranger finally breathe a sigh of relief.

He had then taken his purchases, "Well, the Chief's purchases," Marcus had thought to himself, back to his quarters. And that's where the poor man had found out that his relief and privacy were both very short-lived indeed. Zack Allen and two other, and rather large at that, security officers had met him in the corridor in front of said quarters. At the looks, "I should really say smirks," Marcus thought to himself, on the "gentlemen's" faces, the Ranger knew immediately that whatever they were there for would not bode well for him.

And his gut instinct had been oh so terribly right. Zack and the two other security officers were there to help Marcus move! The Chief had decided that having his "adopted son" living so close to Down-Below was asking for more trouble than having a Ranger in that proximity was worth. When Marcus began to argue, the Chief's 2IC simply smirked even more widely, held out his hand and gave him a flimsy from Michael.

Marcus had then glared at the offending flimsy. He knew that if he took it and read it that there would be no way that he would able to avoid the move and whatever other bad news that may be coming. So, Marcus continued to glare at the offending item as if that death glare would make it go up in smoke. Finally, after admitting the futility of his actions to himself, Marcus snatched the flimsy from Zack and opened it. It read:

P.I.T.A.,

Before you go off half-cocked and send my men to medlab in pieces, use your God-given brain and think for a minute! Don't develop the same mental deficiency your idiot of a fiancé has! Now that everything that can be made public is out in the open, this move is MANDATORY!

O.K., kid, I'm laying the cards on the table for you. One, I don't think you're stupid or that naive. You wouldn't have survived EFI or Jeff's Rangers if you were. So by now, knowing you, you have concrete proof as to who and what I really am. You also know NOT to make it "public" public knowledge, if you catch my drift. Let's keep all that "officially" on the Q.T., shall we?

Two, since your Minbari idiot F-ed up politically – and in major proportions – this morning I've had to name you my "adopted son" to help do damage control. Kid, we both know that Jeff's personal Wind Sword scratching post is going to raise one hell of a stink over you and pike boy getting together. We may need the families' contacts on this one if the manure hits the fan the way I think it will.

Now, what that means is this; you not only have to deal all your own ghosts and enemies from all you've done and still have to do in the line of duty, but now you're the target of mine and those of "la famiglia" as well. And, on top of that, you've got your bone-headed boy toy's enemies gunning for you too. So, you're moving in with me.

I've got the Skipper's permission to move us to the diplomatic sector for the duration of this damned brew ha ha. Hence, you, me, and my great Aunt - who IS going to be one of your chaperones along with your old pike teacher - are all going to be one big happy nuclear family until you're hitched to the idiot Grand Pooba. Now, be a good little Ranger, and let my men move you into the new digs WITHOUT sending them back to me looking like a deconstructed erector set, capisci!?

Your new "papà",

Michael

P.S.

Three, you're also moving in here because I don't trust that bone-headed, xenophobic, mentally deficient, walking erection of a Warrior - and previously proven temper volcano (he and I WILL be discussing such things as duels to the death and attempted homicide) - any farther than I can throw B5!! Oh, and I'm sure I don't need to write this, but just to be COMPLETELY sure, if there is a repeat performance of this morning - not to mention last night - BEFORE the right times/ceremonies, THERE WILL BE HELL TO PAY - for BOTH of you!! Capisci!?

Marcus read, then reread the note, choked, swore, swore some more in a myriad of languages, and finally groaned. The security team was now not only smirking; they were now also openly chuckling at his reaction. Oh, merciful heavens! Bleeding, buggering, bloody hell! Why him? What had he done in his past life to deserve this?! He was now officially a scion of an old LCN family. His birth family had to be rolling in their graves!

Then Marcus processed the rest of the letter, and shuddered in dread. Garibaldi planned ANOTHER skinning for Neroon and … oh God! Marcus reread the note again, hoping beyond all hope that panic had made him make a mistake in reading it. No, he'd read right it the first few times. Master Durhann and an Old School Mafia Princess were going to be his courtship chaperones! Oh, God and Valen! This was the stuff of nightmares - and the kind of thing that started intergalactic wars! The poor Ranger knew in his gut that all hell would break loose the minute the two so-called "elders" arrived. He really wasn't ticked off about the need to move, but the idea of Michael's Great Aunt and the venerable old Denn'bok Master chaperoning himself and Neroon, well THAT had him hyperventilating! And then the real danger of that morning's fiasco came crashing down on the Ranger. That's when the shaking and choked whimpers started.

"Oh, God, Valen, Velaria, Great Maker, G'Quan, Jeff, Jesus, all the saints and angels, the entire Heavenly Host and any other deity out there listening – uh, and you too Elvis, PLEASE, PLEASE DON"T LET MASTER DURHANN FIND OUT ABOUT EVERYTHING! I don't want to be beaten to within an inch of my life – again!" Marcus prayed silently and fervently.

After some minutes of shear panic Marcus slowly, and to the further amusement of the security team, finally pulled himself together. He reread the missive again in some vain attempt of making it say something else entirely, which of course didn't work. Marcus sighed to himself. He tried to look at the situation as positively as possible. Well, he and Neroon were both adults as well as professional soldiers. They had both survived horrific situations in the wars they had faced. Compared to that, this shouldn't be that difficult. They could get through this courtship physically intact - and also keep the peace between the Station, Earth Alliance and Minbari Federation. The poor Ranger kept saying that to himself over and over for the next several minutes as he tried desperately to convince himself of it. When he'd almost convinced himself to believe that lovely piece of fiction, he thought through what the rest of the missive said.

Oh, yes. Marcus was now more than sure as to what other positions Michael held. And that had him worried, very worried. A man that had the GROPO, EA Security, and EFI contacts that Marcus knew Michael did was dangerous to start with. A man that had the war record that Jeff had told Marcus Michael did was someone the galaxy as a whole usually feared as badly as they feared the Shadows. A man that had all that and held "that" office on top of everything else, was Death's Avatar walking.

And now Marcus was his "official heir". Oh, how absolutely, fantastically bloody lovely! The Ranger was completely nauseated at what he might have to do in the name of that office; an office he that knew wasn't one he could ever step down from voluntarily and/or alive. This brought The War and all of his time in the service(s) crashing down on the Ranger. Marcus didn't want to remember everything he'd done, or to think about what he might still be forced to do in the name of "Duty". The Ranger grimaced. To Marcus, the word "Duty" had become a profanity more vile than any other.

He snorted to himself. What would the Station say if they knew what kind of cold, sick bastard their "White Knight" really was? What would they say if they knew just how many times he's whored his principles for that damned word "Duty"? After everything he'd been forced to do in order to safeguard Humanity, was it any wonder that he'd clung to the ideal of chastity until marriage so dearly? And just look at how quickly he'd almost thrown that away! If it hadn't been for Neroon's self control, even that last untarnished tiny part of his soul would have been defiled.

Again, Marcus felt disgusted with himself. Good God! What was one barely held virtue worth when weighed against an entire host of vices? Who was he trying to kid? He was no better than the rest of "la famiglia". Marcus gritted his teeth and swallowed down the bile rising in his throat as he thought of that. With his blacked out service record, he was bloody well perfect for the job as their "official heir". He'd sabotaged, lied, cheated, stolen, blackmailed, intimidated, and practically tortured prisoners in the name of "interrogation"; and of course he'd "neutralized" targets for EarthForce, EFI, and the Rangers. That went without mentioning those poor bastards he'd been forced to kill in actual combat! What's ordering those types of actions compared to carrying them out? What's the bloody damned difference as to who and what those targets were going to be now? He'd damned his own soul long before Arisia had been destroyed, let alone what his hubris had done there!

Marcus shut down his train of thought before he fell apart, continuing to dwell on the past wouldn't help anything. He mentally went back to the Chief's note. Ah, as for the move, well this part of the letter really didn't surprise him. He'd just hoped to avoid the issue for a bit more. All in all, Marcus knew that the Chief was right about the security issues and had known that at least Neroon would have insisted on him moving in due time. The Ranger though, hadn't thought that the Chief would pre-empt the Shai Alyt. Marcus snorted to himself again. After this morning, he should have known better! Knowing that the Chief was right didn't make him feel any better about having to move, but it helped the Ranger make the decision to let the security team help move his things with only token grumbling once he'd broken out of his depressing reverie.

Since Marcus lived rather spartanly, the four men were able to pack up his belongings and move them to the new, and in Marcus's opinion, excessively luxurious quarters in a little more than an hour. Marcus had been rather shocked to see where the Captain had placed them for the duration of the courtship. The Ranger had to be shoved out of the way when he had entered the new quarters because of his shock. Marcus's, well the Chief's, new quarters were rather large. Guests were greeted directly into a decently sized living room. It was large enough for a centralized sofa, love seat, and lounge chair arrangement done in a soft mauve that had the expected tables and lamps to go with it. A dark gray woven rug anchored the living room.

To the right of the entryway, a frosted glass screen blocked off what turned out to be a slightly small, but rather well appointed kitchen. Marcus was sure that the Chief would love that feature. After that, there was an open dining area with a table large enough to seat six and matching chairs. The dining set, coffee, and end tables looked all to be made of the same dark and REAL wood.

There were three frosted glass doors coming off the living area. They each opened to one of three separate rooms. The largest was a very well appointed bedroom suite. The second largest was a single bedroom. And the third was a study that was slightly smaller than the single bedroom. It was in the process of being turned into a bedroom. The bedroom and study that was soon to be bedroom shared a small bath that, wonder of wonders, had a real water shower! If there was one thing that the Ranger loved about these quarters, it was that water shower. Marcus chose the converted study as his room. He knew that he and the chief would be in the single bedrooms without even having to ask. After all, it was only fair to have Michael's visiting, and elderly, Aunt have the suite.

As the four men began unpacking Marcus's things and putting them away, one of the security officers mentions his lack of effects. When Marcus stiffened, Zack laid into the offending security officer viciously about reminding the poor Ranger that his entire colony and birth family had been destroyed. The Chief himself interrupted this little event. Garibaldi walked in, stopped when he heard Allen's vicious tirade, and then barked out, "Quiet!" and the noise stopped. The Chief took a look around, and dismissed the offending officer. The Chief then ordered the second of the "gopher pair" to take guard duty outside the door. Once the Security Officer left, the Chief gave Zack a nod and his 2IC reached into his pocket for something. When Zack removed his hand from his pocket and nodded back to Michael, the Chief motioned for them all to be seated. Zack took the lounge chair while the Chief and Marcus took the couch.

Then Michael began to talk again, "O.K., well I know that this is becoming one hell of a dog and pony show."

Marcus groaned while Zack snickered at that comment. Marcus shot him a force ten death glare that made the poor 2IC pale. Michael got the two men's attention before things got ugly.

"No violence! Play nice kiddies! Now knowing who, what, when, and where - and all of that - that we're facing if we're tripped up in a lie, I think we need to cover some more bases before we head out for that party tonight. So with that out on the table, here are a few items that Martag and I have been able to cover while my sonny boy here…" Marcus interrupted the Chief with what he thought was a well-placed upper cut.

The older man dodged it with a speed that spoke of a man half his age while catching Marcus's fist in a powerful grip. The Chief then applied a very painful amount of pressure on the trapped fist. When Marcus was completely still due to both the pain and the look in the older man's eyes, the Chief gave him a warning the Ranger would never forget.

"Marcus, try that again and you'll find out why I held the GROPO hand-to-hand title for ten years - and for some of those years, mister, you were still in diapers. Got it?" Michael growled out.

It was Marcus's turn to pale while he nodded. Michael let go of Marcus's trapped fist at the silent nod. Michael's revelation released a torrent of emotions and thoughts within the Ranger; the main ones being of understanding, closer kinship, and pride in his abilities of observation. Ten years as the GROPO fighting champ over thirty years ago, and Michael didn't look to be more that a decade older than Marcus. Marcus knew well from his own biological father exactly what that meant. Marcus had already suspected it because of the youthful look of the Chief, a man over twenty years his senior, but now he was positive. Michael had been augmented.

Back in the days Marcus's father had served in EarthForce, the Earth Alliance had still been reeling from the horrors that they and the rest of the League had encountered during the Dilgar Wars. Therefore, they had looked for a way to make the "perfect soldier". The training regimens for the EF Special Forces back then had included every kind of physical and mental boost possible. The program didn't last. The sheer amounts of DNA and gene therapy combined with steroids, hormones, other drug cocktails, and both psi ability and shielding boosts had driven most of the troops involved practically insane – if it hadn't killed them first.

Marcus's own father had been one of the lucky ones. He'd lived and gotten out of the service with his mind intact and no PTSD. The changes had been permanent though. Also, some of the enhancements had been passed on to Marcus and his brother genetically. Which was why Marcus confused the hell out of Steven in regards to his healing abilities. Now, it looked like Marcus hand found another one of the lucky ones. Marcus tuned back into the conversation as he massaged his now very sore hand.

"O.K. now that we've all settled down, back to the topic at hand. Item one; since Marcus spun one lollapalooza of a cover story for us today, we're going to be using that for our little shindig here. Item two, getting everybody on the same page. Now, Zack I know that you don't know the whole bit, so here's the rundown. Neroon, being the idiot that he is, decided to ask Marcus out on a date last night." Zack smirked and opened his mouth to say something. "And before you say it, he's not an idiot for his taste in dates! Now, that normally wouldn't be problem, except the Warrior jackass very conveniently forgot that Minbari tradition and law both require a chaperone for something like that, especially for someone in his office. Then, just to make things more interesting, the over-sexed son of a bitch wined and dined our boy here into the sack!" Michael practically spat out.

A mortified Marcus broke at that point in with, "It wasn't like that!"

The Chief shot Marcus a look that would have promised him one hell of a hiding if it had been leveled on Marcus by his biological father in his teenage years. Mortification and fear just didn't cover what Marcus was feeling at that moment. Almost forgotten childhood self-preservation reflexes kicked in, and the poor Ranger found himself sinking into the couch in order to make himself a smaller target.

Once Marcus was once again properly cowed, the Chief went on, "Well, no it wasn't, I'll give you that. But it was bad enough without the home run! AND we all know what the Minbari think of THAT happening before the Shan' Fal! So, thanks to Martag catching them red handed," - Marcus was very well past mortified at being reminded of that morning and sunk even deeper into the couch - "we've now got the Minbari version of a shotgun wedding starring us in the face."

"On top of that, we've got to make sure that this doesn't become a scandal that Shakiri could use to unseat my soon to be jackass-in-law. AND, we've got to cover ours collective butts, because this could be used to restart Earth-Minbari War. Needless to say, we've been running like hell all day to come up with a back-story as well as cover any and all openings of attack that the psychopathic Wind Sword could use against us. Anyway, I've sent you an encrypted copy of what Marcus has cooked up so far. Make sure you pretty much have it memorized."

Zack snorted. "Got it. Anyway, I figured that it was something like that. You kind of made that a little obvious with the muttering this morning boss. No offense, but I read Marcus the riot act about restarting the War all by his lonesome this morning," he said while nodding to the now curled up and furiously blushing Ranger. "And I already took some initiative on the back story. I have some friends who... err... well, let's just say are into, uh, "cross-cultural exchanges", that have gotten me some copies of Japanese haiku written on real rice paper. They're written in original Japanese calligraphy, Standard calligraphy, and also in Lenn'ah. There's about a dozen of them. They were also able to um, "procure" a similarly written and leather bound copy of "The Art of War". After some of what you and the Commander were spewing this morning boss, I figured she, you and Marcus could use them to stage something."

Marcus, thinking fast, and seeing an opportunity to get the other men's minds off of his early morning indiscretion, jumped in. "Zack, you're a life saver! If I remember Minbari customs right, I need to give a gift to Neroon tonight, and I sure as hell haven't had a chance to get anything for him. Um, if you can get that book for me, I'll owe one hell of a favor!"

"Great! Now that that's all settled, we can go to item three. That's getting this fashion exile ready for tonight," Michael said while pointing to Marcus.

"Hey!" Marcus took exception to that derisive comment on his sense of style.

"Not a word, Marcus, not one more word. We all know that you run the minute someone mentions clothes and/or hair care," Zack sniggered at that all too true statement. "So, in order to get you spiffed up – WITHOUT having to catch you first and haul you back gagged, cuffed and trussed - enough for tonight, there's a barber coming here to get you fixed up." At Marcus's dark look, the Chief went on, "Remember, you're representing my family from now on, kid. He'll be here in about thirty minutes, so go get cleaned up and then he'll come in and work his magic," he ordered.

Marcus knew when he was beat. One of the Chief's men was outside the door on guard duty. Zack was in front of him. The Chief was sitting right next to him. There was nothing he could do but give in gracefully. And in the Ranger's book, giving in gracefully didn't mean he couldn't at least needle the Chief just a little bit.

"Si, papa," Marcus shyly murmured out with the most innocent and angelic look pasted on his face. All Marcus needed was a halo, (kept up with horns, of course) and the picture would have been perfect.

Zack roared with laughter at the picture of false innocence in front of him.

Michael took the throw pillow and smacked Marcus upside the head with it. "Funny, figlio mio, funny! Now, if you're done acting the clown, get your kiester into that shower." Michael then too started laughing.

Marcus began laughing as well. "You don't have to tell me again. I saw a real water shower in there. I haven't been able to indulge in a real water shower in years. You'll probably have to pry me out with a crow bar before I use the Station's entire supply of hot water!" Marcus said as he got up and walked towards what would be his room during the courtship.

When the sound of the shower running could be heard, Zack sobered and turned to the Chief. "So, just how bad is it really, boss?"

Michael sighed and unceremoniously sprawled on couch. "I don't really know yet, kid. My people on Minbar haven't all gotten back to me yet. But one thing is for sure. Shakiri already knows about the War Council this morning and is already digging for dirt."

"Neroon is Shai Alyt, Minsa'hat (Clan Leader), and Satai, all rolled into one. He officially may not hold the old titles, but Minbari Warriors and the Council of Clans have long memories. He's also allied himself pretty close to "Delenn" and her supposed supporters. He's pretty much been untouchable from the Minbari political aspect. And Shakiri knows he'd never be able to beat him in a Ritual Challenge."

"But now the jackass has a weakness in his armor. And that weakness is Marcus. Shakiri will go after him in any way that he can. And that will cause a huge shit load of problems. I'm going to need everyone on this one Zack. I'm going to need every one of mine and every one of yours, kid. If Shakiri does what I think he will, and if he's really allied to who my people think he is - that is if they're really still around - the Shadows will be the least of our worries. Hell, we won't need to worry about them. If Shakiri wins this one and it's all true, we and the rest of the old League, will all already be dead."

Zack nodded thoughtfully. "I'll contact my captains in the Outfit right after we're done here. Where do you want our people to hold the summit?"

"Same place as always. There are some things that traditions are good for. I'll contact my Capos at the same time you get your boys on line. Have it set up for two Standard days from now. We should have all the info by then," Michael answered.

"Do we need to get the Skipper in on this one?" Zack asked.

"Hell no! Don't haul in John unless we have absolutely no choice. This is going to get Hell's Kitchen dirty Zack, and John needs to stay squeaky clean or we lose all credibility back home. He needs plausible deniability on this one," the Chief answered. "Besides, HIS people are a hell of a lot more trigger happy than ours, and I HATE his father's diplomatic webmasters. That, and the fact that he has both Bester and Byron by the short and curlies scares the living fuck out of me."

Zack snorted. "You and me both boss, you and me both. Will Delenn be of any use?"

The Chief smirked derisively. "Since when has she really been? You know that Delenn has been nothing but a pawn to her mother, Dukhat, Jeff and now John. And you damned well know that Delenn's mother and her Sisterhood is the real power behind the Religious Caste again. Delenn has been nothing but a pawn with delusions of grandeur her entire life."

"Jeff told us both about the war for power he and his Seconds fought against that old battle-axe from the Sisterhood. He told me just how much it cost him to win that war, too." Michael sighed. "Thank God that he left his entire folio for John! The Skipper's gonna need all the ammo he can get if and when this mess settles down and the ISA really tries to get off the ground."

Zack nodded his agreement. "O.K., that answers that. Now, what the hell do we do about Neroon's "baby killer" image back home?"

Michael let his head fall back onto the cushions and groaned.

Neroon was still chuckling from his talk with Sheridan when he reached his quarters. Neroon walked into his quarters to find a slew of deliveries awaiting him, along with an irate Chief Aide.

"You're late!" barked out Martag.

Neroon groaned. If he didn't truly believe that Marcus was his soul mate, he would have called everything off at that moment. "Well, here we go again!" thought the harassed Shai Alyt.