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Marcus slumped gratefully down the exit ramp of the shuttle. It hadn’t been an easy few weeks. He’d almost managed to forget how much he hated funerals; it helped that most of the people he’d buried in the past couple of decades hadn’t had family left to mourn them. He wasn’t sure what had been harder; the open hostility of Chad’s uncle to every surviving member of the Ranger team that had brought his nephew home, or the sympathy of his mother to the same group. It was good just to be home, away from it all for a while. He was on mandatory downtime until his broken shoulder finished therapy anyway.
He looked around the arrivals area of the Tuzan’oore spaceport. He didn’t see his husband, but that wasn’t entirely unusual. Their schedules didn’t always work out so that they could meet each other when they returned from missions. He finally caught sight of his sister-in-law leaning against one of the far pillars, for once completely divested of the flour that liked to cling to her despite her best efforts to clean up.
“Ardiri?” he asked quietly as he came up to her, startling her out of whatever thoughts she’d been buried in. “Is everything all right?”
Ardiri grimaced, an expression uncommonly like one Fara tended to wear when presented with certain vegetables. “Mostly. Neroon asked me to meet you; he’s yelling at the Marka’ri Minsa this afternoon.”
“Yelling?” Marcus asked. “About anything specific?”
“I’d better let him tell you,” Ardiri shrugged. “Better coming from the source. Where’re your bags? I’ll get them.”
Marcus led her over to the baggage claim area, much more civilized on Minbar than the mad spinning carousels that earth ports couldn’t seem to get away from using. He pointed out his duffel, almost indistinguishable from several other vaguely khaki-coloured bags used the universe over by military and quasi-military personnel. Almost, because Marcus had at one point in his first year of training become sick of never being able to find his bag – or possibly he’d still been rebelling against his early years in EarthForce – and had made the biggest, fuzziest, most colourful pompom he could out of scraps of yarn. It had been attached to his duffel ever since; it was probably the best-travelled pompom ever made.
“I always wondered where the Warrior trainees got the habit of marking their things with colour-coded yarn,” Ardiri remarked. “Does Neroon know you’re corrupting his underlings?”
Marcus chuckled wearily. “He knows. He growls about it, but I think it amuses him.”
“Come on, I’ve got a transport waiting back to the estate. The children have been waiting for you to finish whatever story you were telling them before that last mission. Something about a trip around earth?”
Marcus’ smile lost some of its exhaustion. “Around the World in 80 Days. I’ve been working my way through some of the classic children’s literature my parents read us when I was a child. I don’t know what I’ll do when I run out.”
“Start over,” Ardiri suggested. “By that time, the ones who can remember the story will have left, and an entirely new crop will be clamouring around your knees.”
Marcus grinned ruefully. “They seem to like me.”
Ardiri snorted. “Of course they do. You act like they do. It’s still a novelty after three years of constant exposure. Come on, I’ll pilot. You can have a nap in the back.”
Marcus nodded gratefully to her as they boarded the Star Riders shuttle and he made himself comfortable on the long benches in the back. EFI and Ranger training made it completely impossible for him to get any kind of sleep surrounded by strangers on a commercial shuttle; it had been a very long trip from earth.
***
Ardiri woke him with a light touch on his arm a few hours later. Long used to Warriors, she didn’t react when the tip of a knife pressed against her wrist briefly before vanishing back into his clothing as he came fully alert. She only gave him a sad smile; Marcus rarely gave away how he was truly feeling, but his reflexes did it for him. The more exhausted or upset he was, the more likely he was to react violently before his mind caught up to where he was and he realized he was holding weapons on his friends. Ardiri, who had been born into the ruling family of a Warrior Clan and who had spent nearly her entire life on the Star Riders estate, still couldn’t imagine the kind of training and life that would have resulted in such a reaction. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
“Are we there?” Marcus asked quietly, eyes clearing but exhaustion still written clearly on his face.
Ardiri nodded, picking up Marcus’ bag and giving him a hand up and out of the little ship. “Come on, you need to get to bed.”
Marcus smiled, but shook his head. “I’m supposed to be teaching the first level class right now.”
Ardiri frowned. “You assistant can cover for one more day, Marcus. You’re falling over where you stand.”
Marcus shook his head stubbornly. “I need to do this.”
Ardiri sighed. No use arguing with him; even if she managed to get him into his room, he’d sneak right back out past her and she’d never know how he’d done it. Easier just to make sure he got there while still upright; his assistant would make sure he remained that way long enough to finish whatever story he was telling them today. She left him at the door to the classroom wing of the estate and took herself off, unpacking his bag and sending most of it down to the laundry before heading back out to the landing field to meet Neroon’s shuttle.
Her brother didn’t look happy as he descended the ramp with his guard at his side, and by the way the young Warrior scurried off as soon as he was dismissed, Ardiri could tell the meeting hadn’t been a good one.
“Hidebound old sticks,” Neroon growled as soon as he came up to her, back stiffer under his uniform than she’d seen in several months.
“What happened?” Ardiri asked.
Neroon shook his head, making a curious sound in the back of his throat. It was equal parts disgust, exasperation, disappointment, and sorrow. Ardiri winced.
“Forget I asked,” she offered. “Understanding is not required.”
Neroon smiled thinly. “Thank you. I’ll tell you about it later, but first I need to see Marcus. Is he sleeping?”
“No, teaching. I couldn’t convince him to go to your rooms. He doesn’t look like he’s slept in days, Neroon. I think the trip was harder on him than he thought it would be.”
“Ah.” Neroon sighed. “That will make this harder. Will you excuse me? I believe I’ll go join in on his lesson.”
Ardiri nodded, and impulsively hugged him before moving off in the direction of the kitchens. It appeared the only thing she could do for her brothers was to cook them something soothing and try to be sure they ate it before both of them collapsed. Very well, she would find the best soothing recipe she owned.
Neroon moved off in the other direction, taking the shortcut around the building that led to the outdoor entrance to the classrooms. In the distance he heard the thwack of wooden practice weapons; one of the beginner pike classes, he guessed, from the pace of the blows.
The classroom wing always seemed to be part of an older world; the hallways were finished in a light wood that allowed poster boards to be nailed up, and dust motes from centuries of books hung in the air. On days like today when the sun shone bright through the high windows, the walls glowed golden and the still air seemed to sparkle. Through various decorated doorways the sounds of lessons could be heard, a dozen different levels and subjects being taught by whichever member of the Clan had the greatest knowledge; the teaching staff rotated as often as the subject matter did.
The room he was aiming for was at the far end, separated from the other classrooms by a short connecting hallway to keep the noise from disturbing them. Normally the most chaotic of all the rooms on the estate, the three-to-six cycle old room was decorated in faded old cushions and as many toys as could reasonably be crammed in, as well as a reading nook. Bright posters covered the walls, and ‘experiments’ could often be found in any stage of progress from barely-thought-of to decaying.
It had only become more random since Marcus had taken over most of the responsibility for the room; oddly, it had also become more successful. Something about the human’s broad and varied knowledge base allowed him to connect with the children on a variety of topics, and Neroon had been informed that the rest of the classes had had to advance their lesson plans quite substantially because the first level was coming out better educated than they ever had before. Neroon couldn’t help but think that was a good thing, even if the other teachers sometimes found Marcus’ methods unusual.
While normally Neroon could hear his mala’s lessons well before he reached the door, today the room was silent as he approached. He opened the door a crack and smiled at the sight that met his eyes. Twenty or so tiny forms were sprawled across the cushions in the reading nook, dead to the world, Marcus himself almost buried by them and equally asleep. The assistant teacher, who took over when Marcus was called away on Ranger missions, looked up from where she was clearing up the snack table and smiled at Neroon, bending down to whisper to one of her three helpers from the fifth class. The older classes took it in turn to offer assistance to the younger, a system that Neroon remembered fondly. The girl ran for the door, closing it quietly and carefully before throwing herself into his arms.
“Papa!” she squealed, still far below her usual volume levels.
“Hello Fara,” he smiled. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes!” she grinned. “The little ones are funny! But Dad didn’t look so good when he came in. And his story was very quiet. Usually even if it’s a serious story he does the voices and the effects and everything. But today he just came in and told a very quiet story and then they piled on him for naptime and he didn’t stay awake.”
Neroon hugged her closer, sitting down on one of the benches placed in the hall for the convenience of parents. “Marcus had a very long trip home. And he misses Uncle Chad. Will you help me make sure he takes it easy for a few days?”
Fara nodded seriously. “Yes Papa. Are you staying until class is over?”
Neroon shook his head, and put her back down. “I have some paperwork to finish. Will you take care of Dad until dinnertime for me?”
Fara puffed up a bit with the importance of her task; she might only be ten cycles old, but she sometimes seemed a great deal more mature than that. Especially when it came to her human father; she’d discovered after a particularly bad mission about a cycle ago that Marcus was a great deal more fragile than a Minbari, and ever since she’d taken rather more care of him than most Minbari children did of their parents.
Neroon saw her quietly back into the classroom before heading for his office. He did indeed have a great deal of paperwork to complete; he’d put a number of duties off to prepare and present his arguments to the Marka'ri Minsa today. Not that it had done any good in the end. He sighed. The discussion – if one could call it that – had been raging for days. This had been his last chance, and the decision had been almost unanimous against him. There would be no further opportunity for appeal. Neroon hadn’t yet let himself feel anything about that decision; first he had to tell Marcus, and he doubted that would be pleasant.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts and his half-hearted attempts to clear the piles on his desk that he almost missed dinner. Would have, if his sister hadn’t come to chase him out and back to his quarters where his mala awaited. Fara, somehow sensing that her parents needed to be alone, had decided to dine with the rest of the Clan children.
“How are you?” Neroon asked as he came in, opening his arms to wrap Marcus up in them.
Marcus leaned into his strength gratefully. “I’ve been better,” he acknowledged sadly. “But mostly I’m just tired. It’s nothing a bit of peace and quiet here on the estate won’t cure. What was your meeting about? Ardiri said there was yelling.”
Neroon sighed, dropping onto one of the cushions around their table and serving himself from the dishes while he thought of how to answer.
“Neroon?” Marcus asked, kneeling near him and selecting his own meal. “Is something the matter?”
“I didn’t want to tell you about this until they’d made a decision,” Neroon sighed. “I asked the Marka’ri Minsa for permission to adopt another child.”
Marcus’ utensils clattered onto his plate. “You what?” he demanded.
Neroon couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. “What is it?” he wondered.
“Human couples generally discuss children together,” Marcus pointed out somewhat sharply. “I should have liked to have been consulted.”
Neroon shook his head. “You misunderstand me. A couple wishing to adopt must present their names to the Marka’ri Minsa, and their standing must be debated. Only after the couple has been given permission from them can they begin discussing it, or putting anything into motion. I was petitioning for our right to adopt, not petitioning to adopt immediately.”
Marcus frowned as he worked through Neroon’s explanation, then sighed. “All right. I still think I should have been there, but I can sort of understand why you wouldn’t have included me. My presence would have affected the decision, wouldn’t it?”
Neroon shook his head. “No. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you hurt. I had no idea when they were going to call for me to hear my petition, and when I got the date… Marcus, you’ve had so much to deal with recently. I didn’t want to put this on your shoulders as well.”
“Well, I know now,” Marcus sighed. “They denied permission, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” Neroon admitted. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I know how much you love the Clan children. I truly wanted to watch you with our own someday, and for Fara to have siblings. Neither of us grew up an only child; I didn’t want her to.”
Marcus looked down at his meal, then pushed the plate away from him, resting his elbows on the table where it had been and dropping his head into his hands. “Because I’m human?”
Neroon shrugged. “They did not say so in so many words.”
“But it’s what they meant.” He wiped his hands wearily over his face, and Neroon could see his eyes glittering more than usual. “I’m sorry, Neroon.”
Neroon reached for his hand, but Marcus pulled away. “It’s not your fault, ah’cala.”
Marcus just shook his head and stood. “Will you excuse me?”
“Is there anything I can do?” Neroon asked. He wasn’t sure which of the recent events Marcus was reacting to right now.
Marcus wouldn’t look at him. “No. Right now, I’m a little too annoyed with you. I understand why you did it, but I would have preferred to be able to prepare for the possibility. If you don’t trust me -” he shook his head. “I’m a Warrior, Neroon. You can’t be strong for me, however much you’d like to be. And you can’t protect me, either.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked away, closing the door to their inner rooms behind him.
Neroon heard the lock slide home, and sighed. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, but he couldn’t have made a bigger mess of it if he’d tried. What was it Marcus was always telling the children? ‘The road to Hell is paved with good intentions’?
***
Marcus stood on one of the many balconies of the Star Riders estate, staring up at the stars. Even after three years of marriage to Neroon, the stars of Minbar were sometimes unfamiliar. More so tonight than they had been in a long time, somehow. He sighed. For the first time since he’d come to train as a Ranger, he felt like an alien on this world. It wasn’t a comfortable experience.
Neroon’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and the human smiled slightly as he leaned into his husband’s arms. Below their perch the sound of children’s voices echoed from the astronomy class being held for the Clan’s younger members. Marcus could easily pick out their own Fara’s voice raised in question.
“I am a fool,” Neroon admitted quietly. “And I am sorry, Marcus. You are right. You are a Warrior, and I have no right to conceal information from you, make decisions for you, or try to protect you from the realities of our life. But you are also the man I love, the other half of my heart, and I would do anything to spare you pain. Forgive me, that sometimes the two come into conflict, and I choose wrongly?”
Marcus rested more of his weight against his husband’s solid bulk. “I might have done the same, if we’d settled on earth,” he admitted. “I don’t blame you. I’m just tired. Too many years fighting too many battles, and every time I think I’ve finally won one of them, something else comes up and I’m plunged right back into it again.”
Neroon sighed quietly against his ear. “Do you want to stop? Delenn would accept your resignation.”
Marcus shook his head. “No. But I’ll admit to being grateful for a brief holiday, medically ordered though it is.”
“You’re still tense,” Neroon observed after a moment. “Is it Chad? Or the Council?”
Marcus shook his head. “Neither,” he murmured, leaning his head back slightly to smile into his husband’s eyes, letting himself exist completely in the moment. Time enough tomorrow to think about yet another friend-sized hole in his life that he hadn’t yet figured out how to fill. Time enough tomorrow to think about never being able to give Fara siblings; he hadn’t realized until now how much he’d wanted that. But for tonight, there was only the moment, and the presence of the man he loved. “Dance with me?”
Neroon smiled in answer and spun him about the balcony carefully. The Minbari Warrior had become astonishingly good at the waltz since Marcus had first taught it to him during their courtship. “Whenever you wish, ah’cala. Whenever you wish,” he promised.
Marcus leaned into him, swaying in his arms as the Minbari night deepened around them.