Despite her relief that Lennier had awoken, Delenn still spent those first two days on edge. Doctor Franklin had used a term she had never heard before to describe Lennier's condition - "touch-and-go". Lennier might be improved, be he was still terribly fragile, so much so that it seemed to Delenn as though any small setback might cause him to relapse, and she would lose him all over again. So she continued to sit vigil, watching over her friend as he slept, and reassuring him and providing him company during his brief periods of wakefulness. Doctor Franklin had been right – Lennier did seem to draw strength from her presence, and Valen only knew how badly he needed strength right now. So Delenn stayed, and was happy to do so, despite her ever-worsening exhaustion.

But Lennier would not be Lennier if he were not constantly looking out for her best interests. In the early evening of the second day, he awoke and smiled at her as usual, but then his contented expression turned to one of concern.

"What is it, Lennier?" Delenn asked, immediately worried that something had gone even further amiss with his health.

"You look so tired," he whispered, his eyes wide with sadness. "It's all my fault."

Delenn did not think for a minute that Lennier was trying to manipulate her – she honestly did not believe him capable of such a thing. But the effect was the same, and it was working. His pitiful expression tore at her heart.

"No, my dear, it isn't your fault at all. You know I want to be here with you."

"But you'll be ill too if you don't sleep." It was a feeble protest, but an earnest one. She couldn't imagine how awful poor Lennier must feel, being too weak to protect her, the duty he clearly held in the highest importance. So he was trying his hardest to do what he could. He would not be so bold as to tell her to go and rest, or even to ask her. She could see in his eyes how conflicted he was – he was yet so unwell, and he wanted desperately for her to stay with him. But he cared about her wellbeing more than his own, and she did not wish for him to worry himself into another bout of illness. So she smiled and reached out to him, tracing the curvature of his face, running her fingers from his temple, down his cheek, and trailing off at his chin. He continued to watch her pleadingly.

"All right," she murmured. "If it will make you feel better, I will go back to my quarters and sleep. But you must promise me you will continue to feel better while I am gone. Do we have a deal?"

He smiled, and she felt warmth flood her heart. "We have a deal."

"Good. Then I will see you in the morning. Rest well, my dear friend."

"And you," he whispered, and she kissed his forehead.

Delenn poked her head into Doctor Franklin's office on her way out of Medlab.

"I do believe you will be happy to know that Lennier has finally convinced me to return to my quarters and sleep," she said when he looked up inquiringly at her. Franklin's face broke into a smile.

"Good! Good for him. He's succeeded where I've failed."

She mock-glowered at him, but the effect was ruined as she tried and failed to stifle a yawn. Franklin chuckled.

"Good night, Delenn."

"Good night," she replied, hugging her shawl about her shoulders, and then adding, "but Doctor, you must promise that if something goes amiss with Lennier, you will call me immediately."

Franklin's tone and expression became sincere. "I promise."

"Thank you. Until tomorrow."

And so Delenn finally returned to her quarters, and after nine nights of dozing restlessly in a rolling chair in Medlab, she collapsed into her own bed and slept perhaps more deeply than she ever had.

Despite her exhaustion, she managed to wake at a reasonable time the next morning. As she drank a cup of tea and ate a bowl of spiced porridge with gusto – she had not realized how hungry she was after so many days of just picking at the food John had brought her, her stomach churning with worry far too much to eat properly – she went through the messages that had built up on her BabCom. Amazingly, she had not missed anything incredibly urgent, although she suspected John might have fielded some things for her without her knowledge. But miraculously, the universe seemed to be continuing to hold itself together. Whoever or whatever was responsible for the cosmic timing of events could sometimes be merciful. Delenn was grateful.

After breakfast, she returned to Medlab, eager to see Lennier despite only having been apart from him since the previous evening. She found she was looking forward to the sweet smile he always gave her when he saw her. That smile alone made all of the time she had spent in Medlab so worth it.

But Delenn did not get her smile. She was surprised to find Lennier awake when she entered his room. He had been sleeping so much recently that she had expected to have to sit at his bedside for at least a couple of hours before he happened to wake. He watched her as she walked in, but when she smiled at him, he tried unsuccessfully to return it. She could see in his eyes how much wanted to express his joy at seeing her again, but he just could not manage any kind of a display of affection. Something was terribly wrong. Delenn felt her heart flutter in her chest, just as it had ten days ago when she had found him shaking with fever in his quarters. The awful events of the last several days came flooding back to her all at once, and she sat beside him and took his hand.

"What is the matter, Lennier?" she murmured, noting with worry that what little color he had regained over the past couple of days had fled from his cheeks.

"It's nothing," he whispered, swallowing hard and shutting his eyes. After a mere couple of seconds, he opened them again and shivered, then tried to pull his blanket more tightly around himself, but could not quite manage for his weakness and the tangle of lines and leads attached to his arms and body. Delenn helped him, but, recognizing the terribly familiar pattern of the development of a fever, she glanced at the vitals monitor. She was surprised to see that Lennier was actually too cold – the screen read 97.2 degrees.

"I can fetch you another blanket," she offered, wondering if perhaps Lennier's weakness was preventing him from keeping warm enough on his own. But he seemed terribly miserable; something else had to be wrong.

"I am all right, thank you." His voice was barely audible, just as it had been when he had woken during the throes of his fever. He gazed at her wretchedly for a moment before shutting his eyes again and blanching, what little color remained in his cheekbones vanishing.

"Tell me what is wrong." Delenn laid her hand on his cheek. "Please Lennier, I am worried about you."

The knowledge that his reticence was hurting her finally got through to Lennier. He opened his eyes and met hers for a moment before lowering them.

"I feel sick," he whispered, almost as though he were ashamed of himself. "I can't sleep for the nausea and the chill."

"Have you told the doctor?" Delenn could not believe that Franklin would have allowed Lennier to continue to feel as awful as he clearly did without intervention had he been made aware of the situation. Lennier shook his head.

"Why not? He told you to tell him if something felt wrong."

"I knew…there would be setbacks." Speaking was clearly a great effort for Lennier, and Delenn felt bad for having pressed him. "I'm strong. I can manage."

"But this could be a sign that something is going wrong with your recovery!" exclaimed Delenn. For a moment, she was tempted to admonish him, her worry causing anger to flare in the pit of her stomach. But then she looked at him lying there, pale and absolutely pitiful, and her heart shattered into a million pieces. What had she expected? Lennier was doubtlessly so frustrated at his own weakness that he would do anything to prove to her and to himself that he was still strong in at least some ways. And he probably saw asking for even the doctor's help as a form of complaint – and complaining was something he never, ever did.

"I am going to speak with Doctor Franklin. I will be right back," she said. Lennier needed reassurance, that was true, but right now he needed the doctor more. Lennier seemed to wilt into his pillow, but he said nothing as she left.

"Hey!" Franklin greeted her when she entered his office. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, but Lennier isn't," Delenn replied. Franklin's expression turned to concern.

"What's going on?"

"He says he feels sick to his stomach, and his temperature is too low. I don't think he's slept in hours – he looks positively miserable."

"Damn," murmured Franklin. "I think I know what's going on." At Delenn's inquiring look, he explained. "Up until late last night, I had him on continuous dialysis to filter his blood while his kidneys rested. You see, we naturally accumulate toxic waste products in our bloodstream as a normal part of metabolism, but normally our kidneys filter them out. When our kidneys are hurt, like Lennier's are, they don't do a good job and the toxins build up in our bloodstream. When that happens, it makes us feel bad. Two of the things it can cause are nausea and hypothermia. I had hoped that he could go a few hours without the dialysis – his numbers were looking better, and I wanted to ease his kidneys slowly back to work. But I guess it's too soon." He sighed and stood up. "Why didn't he say something?"

Delenn shook her head. "In temple, we are taught never to complain. It is a hard habit to break, especially for one as humble as Lennier. And he is not accustomed to being laid so low – I believe he is grasping for any semblance of strength he can, and in his mind that translates to bearing his discomfort in silence."

Franklin sighed again. "Oh, Lennier."

"Doctor, his kidneys will get better, won't they?" Delenn had overheard the nurses talking at various points during the course of Lennier's illness, and she had learned that organ damage and failure were long term complications that could occur with sepsis. For Lennier to have come so far only to never be whole again – Delenn did not think she could bear the thought.

"I think so," said Franklin reassuringly. "I mean, in medicine we say 'never say never, always avoid always'. But they are improving, and that's a really good sign. I know it's hard, but try not to worry too much. Okay?"

Delenn afforded him a small smile. "I am afraid that is an impossible request, Doctor."

Franklin chuckled. "Fair enough. Anyway, you can head back now. Let me grab some ondansetron to help with his nausea and then I'll be right there."

Delenn thanked him and returned to Lennier's room, where she sat at his side once more. His eyes were closed, and for a moment she did not think he noticed she had returned. His face was drawn up into a wince, his brow tightly furrowed. Delenn took his hand and pressed it lightly in an attempt to comfort him, and he opened his eyes and immediately looked contrite.

"I'm sorry, Delenn," he whispered, but she hushed him quickly.

"Not just now, my dear," she murmured. "Doctor Franklin will be here momentarily. All is well; never you worry. Just rest."

Lennier nodded as best he could, unable to retain his remorseful visage for his nearly overwhelming physical discomfort. Delenn slowly rubbed up and down his arm, feeling him shiver beneath her touch and wishing with everything she had for her friend to just feel better. A long recovery was inevitable, she knew, but Lennier was strong, and she would support him for the duration. But for him to feel this utterly miserable was another thing entirely. Watching her dearest friend suffer made her heart feel as though it was being wrung like a wet cloth.

It was not long until Franklin entered, bearing a syringe and a very warm-looking blanket.

"Hey, Lennier. Delenn tells me your stomach's not feeling so good?"

Lennier shook his head unhappily, tensing a bit as the doctor briefly palpated his abdomen.

"Does that hurt?" Franklin asked.

"No," replied Lennier softly. "It's just uncomfortable."

Satisfied, Franklin injected the contents of the syringe into the port in Lennier's fluid line.

"Okay. This is medicine to help with the queasiness. You should feel a lot better in about half an hour."

"Thank you, doctor," murmured Lennier, just as another wave of nausea hit him and he tried to lean forward to guard his uncomfortable abdomen, but failed in his weakness. Franklin reached for the bowl on the cart near the bed, but Lennier feebly waved him away after a couple of seconds.

"No…I'm all right. Really. The worst just comes and goes."

"All the same, I think maybe you should lie on your side for awhile, just in case. You might feel better that way, too."

Lennier lowered his eyes. "I'm not sure I can manage…"

"We will help you," Delenn piped up, eager to be of some assistance. Together, she and Franklin got Lennier turned onto his side, facing Delenn, whilst being mindful of all the implements attached to him. Then, Delenn tucked the blanket the doctor had brought around Lennier. Her ailing friend seemed a bit embarrassed by all the attention to his physical needs, particularly on the part of Delenn, but once he was all curled up and his shivers had reduced in frequency and intensity, he did look a bit more comfortable. When Delenn asked him if he was, he responded with a soft, "yes, thank you."

Franklin, who had stayed to restart the dialysis machine and observe his patient for a couple of minutes, took his leave then. But first, he cautioned Lennier.

"I know you don't like to complain, but if you don't feel well, you need to let me know. Telling your doctor if something feels wrong doesn't mean you're weak. Knowing what you're feeling helps give me clues as to how your recovery is going. For example, because of how you're feeling right now, I know we need to give your kidneys just a little more TLC before we send them back to work on their own. That's important information. So next time you start to feel worse in any way, promise me you'll let me know right away?"

"I promise," said Lennier. Franklin seemed satisfied with this answer, and he went back to his office with the reassurance that he would be back to check on his patient. Delenn settled into her chair, and they were both silent for a few minutes. Delenn desperately wanted to talk to Lennier, to provide him with the reassurance he so clearly needed. But she wanted to give the medicine time to work a bit, and she did not want to push Lennier out of sensitivity for his delicate physical and emotional states. Her patience was rewarded when, after several minutes, Lennier murmured once more,

"I'm sorry, Delenn. I never should have worried you like that. I…I don't know what I was thinking."

"I do," she said kindly. "But Lennier, you must understand – you don't have a single thing to prove to me. You are one of the strongest people I know."

"Even now?" he whispered, his deep brown eyes wide with the desire to believe what she was saying.

Delenn caressed the side of his face. "Especially now."

Lennier's bright eyes shown with even adoration than usual. "That means more to me than I can express, Delenn." He paused, then managed a slight chuckle. "But, it's funny..." He trailed off, as though he were reflecting upon something.

"What's funny?" Delenn prompted gently, her curiosity roused.

He refocused his gaze on her, and Delenn wondered what she could possibly have done in her life to deserve the level of love in those eyes.

"You are the strongest person I know."

For a moment, Delenn thought very seriously that her friend might think differently if he knew the truth. If he knew what she, in a terrible moment of weakness, had once done. But then she realized that it was very unlikely that even that awful knowledge would change Lennier's opinion of her. And perhaps there was something to his words – after all, when he had taken ill, she hadn't run, unwilling to see her friend suffer even though it upset her greatly. She had stayed by his side despite overwhelming exhaustion. To her, it had never seemed as though she had had an option – she would never even have thought of leaving Lennier. But she supposed that a lesser person might have. Maybe she was stronger than she thought. She smiled and ran her thumb over Lennier's knuckles.

"My sweet Lennier."

They sat quietly after that, each simply enjoying the presence of the other. After awhile, Delenn asked Lennier if his nausea had abated, and he nodded drowsily. Soon after, he was sound asleep at last.

Delenn stayed with Lennier all day, alternating between praying, meditating, and just watching her friend sleep. Lennier did not wake for hours and hours, his body doubtlessly trying to make up the rest he had been prevented from getting that morning. Around 17:00, Delenn heard her name spoken in a near-whisper from behind her. Recognizing that voice, she smiled before she even turned around, her heart doing the same giddy little flips it so often did lately when she heard it. But when she turned around, she saw that the skin around John's eyes was wrinkled with concern.

"What is it?" she asked as he approached, whispering to avoid waking Lennier.

He sighed. "There's been some Shadow movement along the outer sector. It could be a false alarm – baseline movement that's just showing up differently - but all the same, I think we need to talk strategy. Ivanova and Garibaldi are meeting me in half an hour, and I'm about to go talk to Franklin. I know you still want to stay with Lennier, but Delenn, we really need you this time. I'm sorry – I held it all off for you as long as I could. But the world outside Medlab was going to catch up with you eventually."

Delenn sighed. "I know. And I am so grateful for everything you have done for me these past days. I suspect you have intercepted more things that demanded my attention than I can guess, on top of your own responsibilities. But it just seems cruel for me to abandon Lennier now. You did not see him, John; he felt so unwell this morning." She bit her lip. "I know I hold a responsibility to lead us in the coming war, but how can I lead when my heart is tethered here?"

John looked as though he was about to say something when they both heard Lennier whisper Delenn's name from behind her. Delenn immediately turned to him, instinctively taking his hand.

"Oh, Lennier, I'm so sorry if we woke you. Valen only knows how much you need your sleep."

"It's all right," he whispered, looking a little groggy but not uncomfortable. "I'm feeling much better than I was this morning."

"Good. That's good," she murmured, managing to smile despite her disquieting thoughts.

"Delenn." Lennier's eyes shone earnestly. "The galaxy needs you."

So he had been listening. Delenn made a silent note to take all future conversations out of the hospital room and into the hallway.

"But you need me, too," she said, unwilling to just neglect Lennier whenever was convenient. She had done far too much of that recently, and ever since he had taken ill, she had resolved never to do it again.

"Yes," Lennier admitted. "But you'll be back, and just knowing that gives me all the strength I need."

How could Delenn say no to that? She did not want to leave Lennier, but he had a point – she could not stay in Medlab forever. And if the galaxy came tumbling down about their shoulders, her friend's recovery would mean nothing in the long run, because they would all be dead. She was the chosen of the Vorlons to lead the side of light in this war, and she had a duty. But that did not mean that doing that duty would be easy. She sighed in acquiescence.

"All right. My dear Lennier, you truly are being so very strong." The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she gave his hand one final squeeze. "I will see you in the morning. Try to keep up your end of the bargain this time – you are supposed to be feeling better in my absence."

"I will try," said Lennier sleepily, and he shut his eyes. Delenn turned back to where John stood, acting as though he was busy reading the labels on some medicine bottles and not at all listening to her conversation with Lennier.

"You go and talk to Doctor Franklin. I will join you in a few moments."

"Okay. And Delenn…thanks. I know this isn't easy for you."

She only nodded as he left. Lennier's breathing had already slowed and evened by the time she turned around. The strength he was showing truly was admirable – for all his pride in her and desire to put her needs before his own, he couldn't fool her. She knew him too well. What he truly wanted was for her to stay beside him; she could tell that her presence was restorative for both his heart and his body. She felt terrible that she was returning his selflessness by leaving him alone when he was so delicate.

She had worn her favorite shawl again that morning, and she instinctively pulled it tighter around her shoulders, letting the comfort and warmth she associated with it flow over her.

And then Delenn had an idea.

When Lennier woke next, the first thing he did was instinctively reach for Delenn's hand. It took him a moment for him to remember why she wasn't there. He was glad for her sake that she had gone with Captain Sheridan – Lennier had been occupying far too much of her time lately. And Delenn had very important things she needed to do. A lot of people depended on her.

But Lennier missed her. The feeling overwhelmed him much more easily than it normally would have – it seemed as though his raw emotions were taking as long as his body was to recover from the high fever. He remembered what Dukhat had said – despite the severity of his illness, Lennier found he recalled the entire vision with perfect, unaltered clarity.

"I know it goes against your every instinct, but you must allow her to care for you a bit. You will be in need of it shortly."

Lennier now knew exactly what he meant. A mere two weeks ago, he would have been horrified if someone had told him that Delenn would spend days sitting by his sickbed and bringing him blankets. He did not deserve such meticulous and loving care from her. But for the past few days, while Lennier had felt so terribly weak and miserable, having Delenn there had made all the difference in the universe. Like a sole beacon in a terrible storm, she had been what he had held fast to, her presence reminding him that things would get better. Every moment she was with him, he felt just the tiniest bit stronger, and every time she swept her thumb over his knuckles she told him again without words that everything would be all right. He needed her. He would be strong for her and put all his attention into getting better until she returned, but it was so much more difficult without her there.

With a shaky sigh, Lennier did his best to curl up more tightly. As he struggled in his weakness to adjust his blanket, his hand brushed a fabric different from the scratchy hospital covering. It was very soft, and the weave felt as though it had been done with great tenderness and ritual. It was Minbari – this he knew automatically. But beyond that, it felt familiar. Li'tiya…could it be?

Lennier traced the fabric down and found that the ends of it were draped around his shoulders and resting on the bed in front of him. He lifted one up and examined it. It was li'tiya, of a beautiful dark red, with shiny golden strands shooting through it. It was Delenn's favorite shawl, the one Lennier had brought her while she had been recovering from her stab wound because he knew how much comfort it conveyed to her. He did not know the exact origin of its importance to her, but he could tell it held a great personal significance. And she had been wearing it when he had first woken a few days ago, as though she had been seeking the solace it provided as she worried about him during the worst of his illness. Lennier had watched her take strength from the garment during some of the most difficult times she had had over the past couple of years – surely now, after all he had put her through and with the galaxy teetering on the brink of a terrifying war with the Shadows, she needed her favorite shawl more than ever. But here it was, tucked lovingly around Lennier's shoulders.

Oh, Delenn. She had been loath to leave him this last time – she knew how desperately he needed her, how her presence and her touch gave him enough strength to keep going. So in her absence, she had given him something that would evoke within him the feeling of comfort she wished to provide, something she hoped would remind him of how much she cared even when she couldn't be there with him. Something that meant a great deal to her.

Lennier rested his cheek on the corner of the shawl, feeling the soft weave of the fabric against his skin and thinking of Delenn. It was not the same as having her there with him, of course, but now that he had a piece of her, he knew he could stay strong until she returned.

The next morning, Doctor Franklin woke Lennier to examine him and draw some more blood for continued testing. So Lennier was already awake when Delenn came a few minutes later.

"Good morning," he said in what he hoped was a cheerful manner as she walked through the door. She seemed absolutely overjoyed when he smiled at her.

"Good morning," she replied, settling into her usual chair and taking both of his hands in her own. He felt his heart fill up with happiness at her touch, as though he had been dying of thirst and then finally taken a drink of fresh, cool water. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he replied honestly. "My nausea is gone and I am not chilled anymore. I think I am even feeling a bit stronger this morning than I have been."

"You look better," she said, looking him over. "You are not as pale as you were yesterday, and you do not seem so lethargic. Did the shawl help with the chill?"

"That, and so much more," he replied, knowing full well that her intention in leaving her beloved garment had gone far beyond simply warming him. "Delenn, I…I can't thank you enough. I know this shawl means a great deal to you, and it brought me such comfort last night. It…it was so wonderfully thoughtful of you to lend it to me." He held out the corner of the shawl where it rested against his chest to her, indicating that she should take it back, but Delenn held up an inhibitory hand.

"You keep it for now, until you are well again."

"But Delenn…" Lennier protested. "It's your favorite." He hadn't the strength to formulate a better argument, so instead he just looked at her helplessly, hoping she took his meaning.

Delenn smiled warmly. "It is my favorite because of the comfort it provides me. I left it here last night in the hope that it would bring the same comfort to you. Since it clearly did, and you need it more than I do right now, I want you to hold onto it until you feel better. Unfortunately, I cannot be here with you every moment as you recover, although I wish that I could be. I only hope this will help a bit in my absence."

"Delenn, I do not know what to say," whispered Lennier, hugging the edges of the shawl to his chest. "I wish for you to be here, too, but I know this will help so much. Thank you." He instinctively lowered his gaze in anticipation of what he was preparing to say, but then remembered his experience with Dukhat and Delenn's profession of friendship, and raised them again. The action took just the smallest bit less effort every time he did it.

"If…if it is not too forward of me, may I ask why this particular shawl brings you such comfort?"

Delenn reached out and tucked the red and gold cloth more closely around Lennier's frame. There was a sadness in her eyes, and Lennier instantly felt his chest squeeze with horror to think that his question had hurt her in some way. But upon further inspection, he realized that sadness was not the only thing he could see. There was also nostalgia, affection, and love.

"It was a gift from my father, on the last day we spent together before he died. Wearing it reminds me of how safe I always felt when he was around. Even if the entire universe seemed bleak, if he was there, I always knew that everything would turn out all right in the end."

"I did not know about your father," whispered Lennier. "I am sorry." So sorry. You have lost so many people you loved. Oh Delenn, how you must hurt. I wish I could help.

"Thank you." Delenn smiled softly at him. The sadness in her eyes lingered a bit, but he could tell the grief was old – it was not the biting agony of fresh loss he had seen there when he had watched her in the river. "My father always worried about me, his little daughter out there all by herself in the big universe. I think it would have made him happy to know I have such a dear friend to guide me and keep my feet on the path. One whose very presence helps to calm whatever turmoil might be in my heart."

It was though she had read Lennier's mind. He could not make it all better for her, though he desperately wanted to, because that was simply not possible. But he could help. And just as her presence gave him strength, so his conveyed the same to her. Weak though he was, he could still serve her. He could still follow the calling of his heart.

Lennier took Delenn's hand and smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner, and when she smiled back he felt joy stir the smoldering embers of conviction inside his chest. He had sworn himself to Delenn's side, and he was so grateful that after nearly having been separated from her forever, he had been granted the opportunity to stay there. Because there was nowhere else in the entire universe Lennier would rather be.