The sense of expectation on the bridge was palpable as Sheridan took the command chair. Faces were set, eyes fixed firmly on their consoles. A communications diagnostic ensured that all the ships could hear him. Sheridan sent out a message to Sinclair's vessel; the other man's face duly appeared on the view screen.

'Well, it looks like this is it, John.'

'It may very well be 'it' if this doesn't work.'

Sinclair kept his expression controlled. 'This is no time to start second-guessing yourself. This scheme of yours is the only hope that we have at the moment; we really don't have anything to lose.'

'Except for the whole damn fleet,' thought Sheridan grimly. He suppressed that thought. He had presented himself as their saviour; and Sinclair was right - self-doubt now would aid no-one. Almost idly, he studied the face on the view screen. It would have been nice to get to know him better. Under different circumstances they probably would have become good friends. In this universe, it seemed that they were and he was glad about that. Sinclair was a good man and it was only now that Sheridan appreciated just how much he and his own friends owed to the sacrifice he had made on Babylon 4.

'Jeff, I just wanted to say… Thanks.' A strange flicker passed over Sinclair's face, but he simply nodded slightly before going off screen.

And now would come the waiting. This was part that Sheridan hated. It was always the worst. When the fighting started there was no going back; there was too much happening all at once to adjust. All he could do at that point was fight his ship and pay attention to his front, right and left. But before then the minutes and seconds slowed and there was nothing to do but repeat everything in your mind; to go over every uncorrectable flaw in your plan; to think about the friends you might lose. The churning in the gut, mouth dry as paper, nerves stretched so tight they were close to breaking point.

Delenn stood by the chair, hands gripping the edge. Her knuckles had turned white. It was odd, with everything else they'd discussed, that only now was he coming to realise that as much as she was like the woman he'd left behind, this Delenn had probably never personally experienced real combat before. His hand moved, instinctively, to cover hers. He couldn't speak to her the way he wanted to, but he could share this. A brief moment of innocent reassurance he'd give to anyone who needed it the way she did.

The lies we tell ourselves.

Delenn glanced down quickly as she felt the warmth of his fingers before resuming watching him out of the corner of her eye. His touch was gentle but his jaw was set as hard as granite, everything coiled, contained. If she had not feared the enemy so, she would almost have pitied them at this moment.

When it came, it was quiet, just the way it always had been, just the way he remembered. That slight movement as though something had shivered against space. The sensors flared into action as the huge black forms emerged.

'Hold back.' Sheridan delivered the order to the whole fleet. 'Do not drop until my mark.'

The enemy ships circled above the planet's surface. They were obviously scanning; they would be picking up the signals from the beacons that had been planted. Their progress was slow, but when they began moving Sheridan knew that they were following a path that would lead to what ostensibly was the greatest concentration of life-forms. It was towards the side where Melior's now lethal moon was in ascendance. The formation changed: no longer simple scanning and reconnaissance, the vessels were moving on an attack vector. The huge ships were congregating in a solid mass. They were powering up for the assault. An explosion of light, sent down to the planet's surface.

'Gotcha,' Sheridan muttered. Taking a deep breath he opened all the channels; it only took one word.

'Now.'

The fleet dropped into normal space, quickly began closing on the enemy.

A few of the smaller Shadow vessels peeled away from the main assault, moving on an intercept course. And then stopped, jerking away as if they had been hit. The main assault vessels redirected their weaponry away from the planet toward the White Stars. Unable to get too close, their sensor arrays impaired by the telepathic field, the Shadows fired haphazardly at any target, even their own ships.

Exploiting this confusion, the White Stars swooped through, vectoring against each other to confuse any sensors not otherwise telepathically impaired. A burst of fire, then fall back.

'Keep close together.' Delenn might be tactically inexperienced but she was the well-trained daughter of a warrior race and her eyes didn't miss a single manoeuvre of the fleet. She took charge of tracking the fleet, her attention alternating between. It gave her captain that little extra space to breath, to concentrate on controlling their ship and keeping them alive. 'We need to pull away together.'

'Left flank pull back, we need to cover the rear. Follow my lead.' Sheridan pivoted his squadron, began returning fire at the ships attempting to slip in behind them. The telepathic block was working; the Shadows kept breaking off before they could inflict serious damage, when the pain caused by the interference became too much. But their weapons capabilities were still phenomenal; when the edge of a blast caught Sheridan's White Star the ship spun dangerously, her crew thrown as the gravity generators strove to compensate for the violent change in orientation. The lights went down, for a few endless seconds they were dark, helpless, and then the power came back online.

'Damage?'

'Minimal.'

'Captain, we are within range of the target.' Delenn was hanging on to the side of the chair, her eyes still riveted to the view screen.

'Everyone stay in formation. Detonate now!' Sheridan watched the sensors, saw that the initial warhead had been ignited. The fleet passed over the face of the moon, as close to it as they dared go.

'Pull up. Pull up! Break away; get the hell out of it!'

The fleet broke up as they swooped upwards at a dizzying speed. They were racing into the night, the screams of the Shadow vessels ripping through their brains. And then it happened. The moon blew apart from the inside and the Shadows passing over it were caught in the fury of the blast. Sheridan felt a wave of grim satisfaction as he saw the ships stricken by a sudden paralysis and then whither like leaves in a flame. The vessels that had been following them were coming to a desperate halt, trying to avoid the trajectories of flaming debris. The brilliance caused by the nuclear explosion had nearly faded when the booby-trapped ships left by the resistance ignited, and Sheridan's predicted chain reaction began. The Shadows were firing at the empty vessels, themselves triggering the fatal cargo.

'Enemy ships, dead ahead!'

The warning came from the front squadron; some of the Shadows had succeeded in avoiding the initial explosion, were now up ahead, and the whole of the White Star fleet was racing straight at them. Strategy became chaos as firing commenced before any order could be given. Bursts of lethal energy from both sides obliterated the stars with their brilliance. Sheridan's White Star rolled, trying and failing to avoid one of their damaged escorts. The collision threw them all. Sheridan's head hit a console, searing pain blinding him momentarily. With effort he shook off the effects.

'Will someone turn off that damn alarm!' The lighting was dimmer, faces gleaming sickly green in the reflections from the monitors. Sheridan pulled himself up, helping Delenn at the same time. She was holding her head, her lips compressed. She lowered her hands. The apex of her crest was broken, jagged shards in place of the sleek point.

'Are you all right?' he asked, horrified.

She held her head erect but he could see the pain in her strained features. 'Do not worry about me. I'll be fine.'

Sheridan looked back at the screen. The enemy was regrouping, not many of them firing. Not yet. And he knew, unshakeably, that they could take them. Pushing his concern over Delenn aside for the moment, he reordered his thoughts and gave the necessary instructions. The fleet broke into smaller groups, with each targeting a single Shadow vessel. They began to divide the Shadow formation, stripping the smaller fighters and scouts away and peeling the capital ships off like orange segments. Sheridan led his squadron back to the desolated area of the initial explosions – there were still warheads that had not yet been detonated. He gave orders for unified, intermittent bursts of fire from all of his ships. 'Find me a warhead, somewhere near!'

He soon had what he wanted, but now they were dodging flaming lumps of rock and metal as well as the pursuing Shadow vessel. He had his target in his sights, ordered the rest of his squadron to make the jump into Hyperspace. At least the distraction would buy them a few more minutes. Just a little time, it would have to be enough. He brought the ship to a halt next to a huge hunk of debris.

'On my mark, detonate the warhead and then fly like a bat out of hell.' Every muscle contracted as he watched the ship close in on them. The Shadow vessel was powering up for what would be the mother of all assaults.

'Fire.'

They pulled away at top speed, bracing themselves against the force; they could barely outrun the blast-wave, it caught them, the whole ship beginning to spin dangerously. At the consoles, their navigators battled to regain control. All around them instruments were going up in flames, every system was redlined and sounding a warning alarm. The White Star was shaking like peas in a child's rattle and Sheridan once again experienced the sensation of a ship being pulled apart around him. After a time that felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds, they began to level out and the terrible nauseating spinning came back under control. The ship slowed and they finally came to a stop. Only then could Sheridan look at the scene, and it took his breath away. It was complete desolation: what had been a moon was now a treacherous asteroid field. There were innumerable twisted black things that had once been Shadow vessels. Damaged White Stars were floating helplessly, their life pods trying to avoid the hazardous wreckage. The rest of the fleet began to move towards them to pick up the survivors.

One of the Minbari crew reported something and Delenn translated. 'There are no more enemy ships on our sensors.'

She was barely remaining on her feet, clinging to the side of his chair. The rest of her body was limp; she looked like a rag doll that had lost all her stuffing. Just two points of colour burned in her pale cheeks.

Despite the damage all around him, John was exuberant. 'We did it, Delenn.' His voice sounded strange to his own ears. Without thought, he rose and pulled her to him, holding her awkwardly, still steadying them both against the occasional shudders from their beleaguered vessel. She stiffened; he let go of her immediately.

'I'm sorry; God, I am so sorry.' A momentary madness, he thought. 'I forgot.'

'It's all right, Captain.' Her hands were shaking. She was suddenly freezing cold and she couldn't stop shaking. It was a great victory. It should be a happy time. She felt like running far away, hiding from the universe and everything in it. But there was nowhere to run; instead, she stepped towards him, resting her head against his shoulder. Nowhere to run, but there was this one place to hide. Just for a moment, she told herself; just for a moment she would draw on his strength and then she would be herself again. The pressure behind her eyes was unbearable. 'In … in this place where you and I are … partners,' her voice was husky, threatening to break, 'are we close enough for this?'

'We're close enough that you never even have to ask me for something like this,' Sheridan murmured. Without hesitation he closed his arms around her again; one hand automatically rested on the back of her head, fingers brushing the ridges.

Delenn turned her face into the curve of his shoulder. He smelt of soap, clean cotton and something else that she couldn't name. His Delenn. She was a fortunate woman to have found such a partner. And they were clearly so much more than that. She found herself envying her far-off sister.

Sheridan felt the moisture against his neck and gently tightened his grip. The mix of emotions was powerful and strange: relief that she was all right; pleasure that she still turned to him; inconsolable longing for his own Delenn and guilt that part of him savoured this embrace.

'In Valen's name!'

Her face was wet with perspiration, hair clinging to her neck. And the Machine sang. Zathras was crouching nearby, watching her even as he watched his master pacing the platform. When not in the heart of the Machine he seemed older, more vulnerable.

'Focus, do not break now! What are you seeing?'

Delenn's voice was hoarse; the effort of speaking was becoming too much. Her body was wracked with the effort. 'It is terrible, so many voices crying out in pain. I cannot get beyond it.'

'You must! Ignore the pain, do not be distracted!' He had known her as a little child, had seen her grow to her maturity, had seen the profound changes in her. There had been no children of his own but he could not imagine that he would have loved them better than he loved Delenn. He should not have agreed to this but now it was too late. 'Visualise your goal, Delenn. Stay calm.'

'No. No!'

She was in the stars and they were on fire. Fire and shadow. Shadows. Always a war against the Darkness. She was in the stars and he was with her; the Shadows had come for him and he was surrounded by fire.

'Delenn. Delenn, what do you see?'

Fire against the night. A world destroyed and he was still racing the darkness. And they were waiting and he was going straight to them.

She cried out his name, her voice echoing through the corridors.

Despite the weariness and the losses that they had sustained, the personnel at Degeba 3 chose to celebrate. It was the first significant victory in living memory, the first for many years before that. It was an unaccustomed feeling and one that they enjoyed. For Sinclair and Garibaldi it was more than enough to forget the doubts of the past days.

For others, it was a time for introspection.

'I am pleased that you took my advice, Delenn.'

Startled out of her reverie, Delenn straightened. Vadiri's impressive frame was unbowed despite the injuries he had suffered in the battle.

'Advice?'

'About allies. It was good advice, yes?'

She suppressed a smile. 'Yes, Vadiri. I don't know what I would have done without your wise counsel.'

He bowed, turned from her. She saw one of those silent spasm ripple across his shoulders. That stern exterior concealed a generous heart and she watched his progress across the room with affection. Vadiri cut an incongruous figure in the middle of the revellers and was soon glowering at a Human female who had sidled a little too close and was showing too much overt interest for his taste. At least he was enjoying himself, she thought.

Across the room, Sheridan was sitting, watching the celebrations with eyes that seemed here yet far away. He confined himself to a quiet corner, a drink that Michael Garibaldi had pressed on him ignored on a table. Rising, Delenn skirted the crowd. When she reached Sheridan she touched his arm. He started, looked up at her. The emotions that crossed his face were too varied, too fleeting for her to name. 'You are not going to join the celebrations?'

He managed a smile for her sake and shook his head. 'I'm sorry. I'm not in much of a party mood at the moment.' What his pain must be was not something that she could imagine: even imagining it seemed inadequate compared to what the reality must be. And yet there was still this need to try. Delenn sat near him, hands clasped loosely in her lap.

'Talk to me.'

His head tilted towards her. 'About what?'

'Anything. Tell me about her. What is she like?'

There was silence for a moment but he did not pretend not to understand. His shoulders moved slightly - an attempt at a shrug.

'There isn't really much I can say.'

'Oh? Even about your mate?' She said the word cautiously, unsure of what his reaction would be. His head snapped around. 'She-she is your mate, correct?'

Sheridan searched for the right words and gave up. 'That obvious, huh?'

Delenn smiled, her head bowing momentarily. 'I should have realised from the beginning. You did not speak of her as a friend does.'

'We were friends for a long time.' Too long, Sheridan thought. He had still called it friendship far beyond the point it had become so much more than that. He still wasn't sure when that point had been.

'Partners,' Delenn added thoughtfully. 'For Minbari, that word has many meanings.'

'It does for Humans, too.'

'So it would seem. You have more skill in my language than I had thought.'

It was an observation rather than a rebuke. Sheridan closed his eyes for a moment, opened them. 'There didn't seem much point in telling you all of it; it was just one more thing to make it all even more complicated. And you're not...'

'The person you love.' Her voice was steady.

'It isn't that simple.' His face always gave away so much of what he was thinking. 'You...' He shook his head. 'You're so like her. And ... not ... like.'

She glanced down at herself pointedly, a slight smile at the corners of her mouth. 'Obviously.'

'That-' Sheridan let out a breath. 'That isn't what I meant. Actually, that doesn't even come into it, it's meaningless.' He had stopped thinking about her appearnce, stopped noticing it. She was not the Minbari who looked like Delenn; she just was Delenn. How could they be so alike? How could two people, divided by things that he still could not quite grasp, be so similar? Eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul and when he looked into hers he recognised what lay behind them as surely as he recognised the woman he had left behind.

Lorien had said that Vorlons could break off little pieces of themselves, live through other people. That piece of Kosh that had been with him was supposed to be gone. It had fallen with him, made the jump and survived. He had often wondered what it was that it had held onto during that long descent. And then what had been left of Kosh had sacrificed himself. But there were still times when Sheridan wondered if he was entirely gone. Times when it seemed like a whisper, the thoughts of another, brushed across his mind. A conceit, perhaps; wishful thinking. But if there was still a tiny part with him still, was it as astounded as he at where it found itself? If it was, could it feel its living self, if Kosh were still living, in this universe?

The time in which neither spoke stretched on. Delenn was not a stranger to silence, but she felt the need to break this one. 'What are you thinking about?'

When he turned to her, looked at her, it was as though he were truly seeing her, as she was, for the first time.

'I was thinking about souls.'

It was not the answer she had been expecting. 'Souls?'

'Yes.' Sheridan paused, then, 'I believe in a soul. I believe that we are more than just this.' He gestured at his own body. 'And I have believed, always, that there is something, some place, after we die.'

'The place where no shadows fall.'

Her voice was very soft. He was silent, his eyes suddenly very far away from where she was.

'Something like that. But all of this has... Well, it made me think about a lot of things. I mean, almost everyone here is someone I know. They all have a soul. In the world - hell, the universe - I come from, they still all have souls. So, are they all separate souls? Do we all end up in different places? Or is the person, the being, that you really are made up of all the different pieces of all these different lives?' He looked at her searchingly. 'Does that mean that you're only really the being that you're truly meant to be when all those different pieces are united?'

'I-' Delenn felt herself floundering – an accustomed state. When posed with the most difficult of questions, her teachers had always relied on the standard refrain that the universe knew what it was doing. It was one that she had used herself on many occasions and it had always seemed to suffice. This, however, was beyond her experience. 'I do not know.'

There was an undoubted wryness in the expression that greeted that admission.

'This is not exactly the most common state of affairs, Captain.'

His smile, this time, was genuine. 'I guess not.'

They were sitting together, a respectful distance between them. Sheridan laughed slightly, met her questioning look. 'I'm sorry, it's just-' Another hint of laughter. 'I've always thought that Delenn had a very special relationship with the universe and these sort of matters. It doesn't surprise me that I have to jump dimensions before I'll hear her … hear you … say the words, "I don't know." '

Delenn's back straightened, her chin lifting. 'Given the questions, Captain, I would defy anyone to give a satisfactory answer.'

'I'm not saying it wasn't satisfactory, it just wasn't much of an answer.'

Her lips compressed. 'Perhaps it was you who were asking the wrong questions.'

He laughed then. A true laugh and she watched him, uncertain as to the cause of this new mood.

'Perhaps I was,' he said after a time. His smile could light up a room, she thought. 'It wouldn't be the first time.'

He was a strange man. An extraordinary one. Even without the knowledge he carried, yet wore so lightly, he would still be extraordinary. That was why, she realised, that was why in some other life she belonged to him. Just for that smile alone, it would be worth it. It was the smile that gave his secret away; and the way she felt herself reacting to it...

The emotion she felt could not be called love. Not yet. But in her heart she knew that with time and care it could be. He was smiling now: something warm and tender in it and it was for her. Not for the woman he wanted her to be, but for her alone.

No. The idea that this man, this Human, could love her she found not repulsive in the least. And she could come to love him in return; she would. But that was for later.

He was speaking again, drawing her attention back to the present. 'I've dumped an awful lot on you these last few days. An apology seems inadequate. But I am sorry for it.'

'Again you apologise? It is good that I am not keeping a record.' She returned his smile. Tentatively. 'I am not sorry. We are partners, after all.'

'It's meant a lot to me. More than you can know, and I do really appreciate it, Delenn. Really.' His eyes wandered over her face. 'I forgot to ask earlier – your head, your crest, are you all right?'

'My... Oh. Yes. It is not painful.'

For a long time he had, like most Humans, believed that the Minbari head bone was simply a hard shell, like a tusk or horn. It was true that it afforded protection to the sensitive skull beneath, but the bundles of nerves and blood vessels running through it also made it extremely vulnerable. Delenn saw his sceptical gaze and raised a hand self-consciously to her damaged crest.

'If it had been further down it would have been far worse. I was fortunate.' She smiled. 'I have filed down the rough edge and it will grow back eventually.'

'I'm glad.'

A moment when they held one another's glance that seemed to stretch on infinitely. And whatever it was that either may have said was forgotten when Garibaldi decided that this was the moment to join them.

'That was about the best day I have ever had.' He clapped a hand on Sheridan's shoulder, the weight almost sending the other man staggering. 'Maybe just behind the night I took Linda Fullman to the prom, but apart from that it was the best. We really kicked them right up the ass!'

'But they didn't have any animals,' said Delenn, looking perplexed.

'Huh?' It was Garibaldi's turn to look puzzled.

'An ass is a four-footed animal, is it not? I believe that it is also referred to as a mule. Or a donkey.' She looked thoughtful and Sheridan had to stop himself from laughing – he had had this sort of conversation before and watched with some amusement as Garibaldi attempted to extricate himself from the situation.

'I just meant that we really… I mean, when I say 'ass' I'm talking about, well it's a part of… Hey, whaddaya know, there's Jeff. Excuse me.' He left as abruptly as he had arrived. Delenn looked thoughtful, then seemed to decide to ignore it.

Sheridan watched Garibaldi's retreat. It was almost like old times: the banter, the easy camaraderie. Garibaldi joined Sinclair who was standing with his arm around a woman. Good-looking: dark hair and bright eyes. There was something familiar about her. They were laughing together and it was the first time that he had seen Sinclair looking truly happy. Of course, he realised, it was Catherine Sakai. Garibaldi had told him a little about her, and Delenn. A surveyor and then a Ranger until she had simply disappeared. She and Sinclair were meant to have been married.

When Sheridan faced Delenn again she saw the hardness. Every line was set. For a moment, just before that, there had been a softer emotion. It was gone now. A decision had been made and Delenn wasn't certain that she wanted to know what it was.

'There is something else, isn't there?'

He nodded. 'This victory is good news for the resistance, but it only gives us a little breathing room. The Shadows know we have weapons that can threaten them now. Their next attack won't just be harassment; it'll be a knockout blow and when that happens… I don't know if we'll be able to withstand it. I suppose I've known all along that there was only ever going to be the one way out of this. I never really believed in fate or destiny or some great force shaping your life for you, but I'm starting to accept the idea.'

'I do not understand.'

'I have to go to Z'ha'dum.' Simple. A matter-of-fact statement.

There was a moment of stillness, then came the realisation and then the horror across her face.

'But if you go there you will-'

'I will die, I know. I already have, remember?' He couldn't bear the look on her face. 'I don't expect you to understand. But that is what I have to do. And I think that the sooner I leave, the better.'

'I do not suppose that there is any way of talking you out of this.'

He smiled and shook his head.

Her shoulders were braced, hands balling at her sides. She could feel the nails digging into her palms and wished it would hurt more. It would serve as a distraction. 'Very well.' She nodded. 'Very well. I shall accompany you.'

Sheridan started, genuinely rattled. 'No. Delenn, no! That is not for you.'

She seemed immovable. He knew that look, knew how impossible it was to argue with her. Almost impossible.

'We are partners, you and I, are we not? Was I mistaken in my earlier assessment of our relationship?'

'No, but-'

Delenn cut him off. 'You required my help. Does this mean that you no longer require it? Am I now supposed to stand aside and watch you do this when the lives of so many, my people included, may depend on it?'

'By that reasoning I should also be taking along representatives from the Narn, the Centauri, the Drazi.' Her eyes flashed mutinously. 'Delenn, listen to me, please.' She tried to avoid his eyes. He took hold of her shoulders; she felt rigid under his hands. 'That's exactly why you should stay. You are needed here. Probably more than you realise. You are a leader and they are going to need your leadership. If I don't come back, you will have to tell them the truth about what happened here, the truth about me. All the things that I told you, you'll have to explain to them. But if you go with me and neither of us make it - it will all be lost, all of it. This,' he glanced around, 'this isn't my place, but it is yours. You are...' Another one of those smiles that seemed to hold a memory she could only guess at. 'You are where you are supposed to be. The universe knows what it's doing. And I think that it has big plans for you.'

Delenn did not reply immediately. She could not. Even something as simple as breathing was a challenge.

'I wish I had some words to send with you. I cannot think of any.'

'Sometimes it's best not to say anything. Talking can be overrated.'

Her head bowed and suddenly the thought of leaving her was harder than he had thought. If she had been entirely different, it would have been easy to make himself believe that she was, wholly, another person. But seeing this woman's anguish hurt just as much as seeing hers. She looked up and for a moment the face in his mind and the one before his eyes merged.

'I-I would like to believe that we shall see one another again, Captain. Somewhere.'

'We will. I'm sure of it. If there's one thing I've learned about the universe from you it's that it has a sense of … symmetry. Harmony, balance.'

Fingertips brushed against his cheek; her hand fell back to her side. And Sheridan again experienced the sensation that he had the ability to fly.

TBC