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Chapter Text

The stars were out on Minbar. A warrior sat on the wooden overhang by an outside door. The overhang was long enough so that he was able to stretch his legs out to their full length. His arms lay lax at his sides. The light from the double moons crowned his head in gentle moonbeams. A heavily accented human voice interrupted the scene.

“Ah, there you are! I wondered where you disappeared off to.”

The clear door opened and the human shuffled by, to join him no doubt. Neroon looked at him.

“You should be resting.” The Minbari’s tone was light, unbothered.

Marcus sat down, ignoring his statement. “It’s nice out, big old mountains, moons in phase. It’s no wonder that it’s so hard for Minbari to leave their homeworld. It’s like a utopia, scenery like this.”

The human sat down at his side, copying his relaxed pose. Neroon studied him out of the corner of his eye. The human was slow still, but his muscles did not tense in the movement at all.

“Is Ashlon still awake?” Neroon wondered if his sister would be joining them.

“Probably. You know her, working on one of her projects.”

“Yes,” Neroon said thoughtfully.

“So,” Marcus began, “I want to make a bargain with you.”

Neroon turned his head towards him. He studied the human’s wide soulful eyes, always so painted with emotion. You would think that these humans were like a rivermouth, easy to gauge the flow of. As ever, the human was proving to have a million invisible eddies hidden beneath his surface.

“Go on.”

Marcus's gaze slipped down as he seemed to ponder. “It occurs to me that I do not know what to give in exchange. Where I’ve trained, the Anla’shok have very little contact with the warrior caste. Your motives, your wants remain a mystery to me, and I’m quite good at giving people what they want.”

Neroon puzzled that over for a moment. He found that he was mostly curious on what the human could desire. He had proven to be a humble guest. The favors from his sister had been received graciously by the Ranger, but without any expectation.

“Most of what your people want seems something you wish to achieve,” Marcus continued. “So I will ask, is there anything that the Anla’shok can give to you that you do not already have?”

“In exchange for?”

“Training.”

Neroon narrowed his eyes at him.

“Think of it, if someone ever bested you with the Denn’bok, wouldn’t you want training from them to figure out how they did it?” Marcus posed logically.

The Minbari noticed a little too much rigid logic in his words and it tipped him off.

“If this is about the Anla’shok practice of conquering terror- I assure that you do not need it. You’ve faced death and I saw no terror in your eyes. Those that have instructed you have not failed.”

The human made a frustrated noise. Always prone to anger, this one. Impatient. In many ways, he still resembled an initiate, always proclaiming in attitude and deeds that he was fully ready when he was not.

“This is about preparedness. There is reason to believe that we shall be facing very powerful foes. A day may come where I need to draw from more than the training I’ve received so far.”

“And you think that you may purchase that training from me, years of intensive study that a human cannot endure on even a biological level?” Neroon kept his tone cool. How much do you want this?

“You’d be surprised what I would give,” Marcus commented. “I know that it seems that I came here with very little, but everyone has their price, and every Ranger has their connections.”

Neroon gave a soft chuckle. “I did not take someone with so high a moral code to act as a marketplace bargainer.”

Marcus gave a dark, impenetrable smile. “Call me determined. This information could end up saving someone’s life, many lives. You’ll find me to be a good student.”

Neroon had trained many an advanced warrior, all of whom were far beyond this human’s level. If he gave him what he wanted, the Minbari would be wasting his talents… and yet… Neroon had never taken down a soldier with this spirit. He remembered observing the human’s love for the Minbari, bloodied lips proclaiming, “For her.” “In Valen’s name.” Neroon’s mind’s eye went through their battle again, every desperate attack, every refusal to back down on the human’s part. Neroon found that he wanted to guide his hands in the next battle that the human was involved in. He wanted this human to fight for him on this mortal plane.

“We will begin by the second early light,” Neroon said. “No weapons, forms only. I did not bring you here to aggravate what I was charged with healing.”

Marcus smiled. He looked positively delighted, to use his phrasing. Neroon found that he was not reluctant to teach him. It would be a challenge, training a species so brittle in their biology. Neroon always had trouble with refusing a challenge.

Chapter Text

When Marcus was brought to Minbar after the Denn-shah, it had been windy. Even while reclined, Marcus felt the gusts of air and heard the sounds of a planet well into its harvest season. He lay in a floating litter, a couple of Neroon’s warriors guiding the device as it hovered.

Neroon called a halt for a moment. He heard a Minbari readjust their uniform. Then, black fabric was draped over Marcus. Marcus half expected them to try to obscure him from view, but then he remembered what Lennier had told him. When Neroon had threatened the upcoming Entil’Zha, he had gravely insulted more than the Anla’shok. Valen’s role was more sacred to the Minbari than could ever be measured. Neroon had to make amends to his people of all castes. Marcus was to be treated as a display of that, the Anla’shok that had defended the Entil’Zha.

Marcus mumbled her name under his breath, still medicated to the gills. The Minbari physician on the ship had kept his dosage high, no doubt to spare him some pain.

“The Anla’shok spoke,” one of the warriors alerted them.

Neroon came alongside the litter, gaze surprisingly the least severe Marcus had seen since that booming laugh. Marcus had no time to focus on it, head still spinning as he attempted to adjust his body on the tilted floating surface.

“What is it you require? Are you in pain?”

Neroon’s stiff voice filtered through the blur of his senses.

“No-gh.” Marcus found his voice still halting and cracking like it had done in the infirmary. He was probably thirsty with all of those kinds of meds in his system.

“The transport is not far. We’ll be able to see to his needs once we reach our destination.”

Neroon gave some orders and what also sounded like requests to his more medically trained warriors to help escort them the rest of the way.

Actually, could do with a bit of water here, Marcus thought. But, he was only able to float along placidly. Just what had Lennier gotten him into? Here he was practically immobilized and mute with stoic caregivers. Well, Marcus always did regain his mobility quickly. He hoped that now would be such an instance.

Marcus opened his eyes again just in time to see a worker caste Minbari embrace Neroon. She began talking elatedly, eyes alight. She spoke of a dwelling. Marcus guessed that it sounded like she shared one with Neroon, or she was caretaker to it. She spoke of her crops and the harvest season. Marcus was immediately more awake, seeing the contrast of her muted worker robes appear dazzling next to the warrior uniform. Marcus saw Neroon’s features soften, his posture loosening. It seemed as though someone had lifted a great burden from him.

“So this is the Anla’shok,” the Minbari worker said more quietly.

Marcus saw her approach the stretcher out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes, we should bring him inside before the storm comes,” Neroon said brusquely.

Marcus realized that the remaining Minbari that had been guiding the stretcher were gone now. Marcus must have faded out and missed it. The litter could float and support itself without someone pushing it.

“I have prepared the visitor room to receive him. Let me know if he should require anything else.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” Neroon said.

Marcus had a devil of a time absorbing the ‘perfect’ bit in his groggy brain. Some Minbari words were more familial in nature, and this was just such a term. Perfect/gratitude/graceful young one were all implied. This must have been a younger sister.

Things became blurry again. He remembered the stretcher being guided into a large home. Marcus got the impression that this dwelling was very unique, especially as they passed through the cooking area. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, as well as some Minbari root vegetables that appeared to be in the process of drying. A lot of the spaces were tidy and efficient looking, but nature had been undoubtedly been brought inside with the potted plants.

Then, Marcus had waited. He waited until he was unexpectedly lifted up and placed onto a bed. It was in the Minbari style, as was much of the furniture. Marcus made a quiet sound.

“Anla- Marcus, wake for moment.” Neroon’s voice sounded urgent.

Marcus did so, meeting the gaze of the dark eyes above him.

“Is there anything you require now before your treatment?”

And so, Marcus somehow managed to relay that he needed water and then the water closet. The warrior seemed unusually helpful. He kept a hand on the back of the ranger’s head as he helped him drink. Then, after a time, he helped him stand on shaky legs and escorted him across the room. Marcus was woozy still. He latched onto Neroon’s arm at one point as his legs became tangled on the walk back to the bed. Neroon wordlessly supported him, stoic, a quiet dark column. There were no snarky remarks about weakness or human frailty. Marcus supposed that it was only fair, as this was his doing, a fact that Marcus was becoming more aware of when he was told what would happen next.

Marcus attempted to imagine that he was in some far off place, or he tried to remember some passages from a recent book he had read. Anything was preferable to realizing that Alyt Neroon was bathing him. Well, perhaps he was being harsh. The water was a welcome change. Neroon wasn’t making a fuss about acting as a field medic either, even in this instance. He did, however, seem to take offense with the surgical scars that he had found on Marcus. When he had uncovered the human’s legs, he had drawn in a breath through his teeth.

“What is this from?” The Minbari pointed out the long and wide scars that stretched from knee to groin, thread marks and drainage port entrance points still visible on the skin.

“Ah.” Marcus wasn’t sure why the Minbari seemed to care. It was just another scar. “Some doctors took out a muscle in my leg to fill in some damage in other places. A muscle transplant, if you will. It happened a few months ago.”

“Why has the scarring not been treated?”

Marcus hadn’t been expecting to hear that. He knew that treatment of scarring was possible, but he had just never bothered with it.

“I never prioritized it, I guess. Was rather focused on surviving the surgery.”

Neroon frowned. The Minbari carefully finished his task, avoiding the many injuries as he did so.

“If I obtained medicine for the older scars, you would apply it?”

Marcus felt his features morph into a puzzled expression. “Of course. I’m not against healing them, just never thought of it before.”

For a moment, Marcus tried to determine if Neroon’s reaction was due to his species or something more on a social level. Marcus did a brief thought experiment, mind putting Duncan or Doctor Franklin in this situation. If Marcus’s friendly acquaintances ever became injured like this, he found that he would want them to heal up fully and quickly. It was possibly a social matter, then.

Much later...

Marcus held the lightweight wooden staff aloft while his adversary’s knocked against it.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you-” Marcus blocked another nudge from the training staff.

His teacher was exceedingly gentle, a sign of his immense skill. The Minbari was currently on the offensive, gaining ground. Marcus spun into the momentum of the direction he was pushed, staff coming in contact with another ‘clack.’

“-for the medicine for the scars. They’re all nearly fully healed.”

“Good.”

Marcus never knew how Neroon managed to make a single word sound so smug, but he found that he didn’t mind it. Neroon picked up the pace, strikes coming in a flurry. Marcus blocked every one, working up a pleasant sweat.

Neroon had backed him into a corner and Marcus gracefully rolled out of it, low to the ground as he struck. It was a risky move, and one that he had put off using.

“Faster,” Neroon chided him, but allowed the move despite the opening it had provided. “We shall halt for the day. My sister could use your help in the garden before she leaves for her duties.”

“Yes, alright,” Marcus agreed. “She did mention she wanted to get some digging done today.”

He found that he rather enjoyed helping Ashlon, who was a character even more than her brother. With her bright and bubbly demeanor, at times, he didn’t know how the two could possibly be related.

As their battle came to an end, they did the customary salute between initiate and instructor. Marcus found that, as ever, he wasn’t sore afterwards. Neroon knew how to increase and decrease the momentum of a session, and was probably using it in regards to the wounded status of his opponent. Making amends, indeed.

Chapter Text

Marcus was out on a walk through the hillsides when Ashlon ran up to him. A smile lingered at the corners of her mouth. She hardly seemed winded despite the climb. Neroon had left this morning on duties for his clan, leaving the two to their own devices. It appeared that Ashlon already had plans.

“Marcus! Are you amenable for a trip? I could give you a tour of the city nearby. I have one request, that we visit the display at the local gardens. I would bring my brother, but he finds it tedious.”

Marcus smiled. “Yes, a trip would be wonderful.” He thought for a moment. “Does Neroon not really have the patience for it? He enjoys your garden often enough.”

He had seen Neroon silently wander among the plants before, illuminated by the setting sun. He often seemed so tranquil that Marcus was reluctant to interrupt him.

“I think that is because it is my garden and his land. It gives him something to converse about with me. I would be able to show you the other sights in the city, the study hall, the markets, the temples and ruins…” She trailed off. “We could leave within the hour if it suits you.”

Marcus agreed. He was looking forward to the exploration.

Marcus caught the midday transport with Ashlon. They drew many curious stares on board, no doubt due to there being a human out in the rural areas. Ashlon seemed oblivious. She told Marcus about the countryside and its various landmarks as they flew through, as Marcus had never seen this part of Minbar before.

When they reached their stop, Ashlon took his arm and guided him through the small crowd. She was unusually assertive for one of her caste, something that Marcus was beginning to glean was uniquely characteristic of her.

The first stop was the gardens, which were full to the brim with life. Small wild animals regularly scurried through the undergrowth. There were different coloured crystals among many of the plants, shining and refracting light off of the blossoms and fruits. The various grasses were kept neat and tidy, but the taller plants seemed to be given reign to stretch out and spread their perfume and leaves.

Marcus was particularly taken by the crystal ponds. There appeared to be some sort of optical illusion going on, making their depth seem vast and limitless, even while natural light illuminated the pond edges and wispy delicate fish drifted about.

After sniffing what looked like orchids, Ashlon joined him beside the ponds. “Is there something interesting down there?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m tempted to lob a crystal in and see how far it goes.”

She laughed delightedly. So, Minbari humor was not based solely off of failure to find enlightenment. Good to know.

“I have already tried it. It does not go far, and more crystals grow at the bottom. It’s probably best to not disturb the pond swimmers. They are so fragile, you know.”

Ashlon ushered him away from the water to go see the more ancient tree-like structures. Platforms and bridges had been built higher off the ground among them. The bridges were eerily just like human-made suspension bridges. Garden visitors were striding along them, clearly enjoying the feeling of weightlessness.

“Come on,” Ashlon coaxed him forwards, seeming eager to experience the phenomenon.

It was rather like being on a playground, but for any age or species. As they walked through the structures and gazed down at the decorative sculptures below, Marcus was beginning to feel truly like his old self. Perhaps he felt better than his old self. Ashlon cheerfully walked him through and saw him off of the bridge. The way she guided him made him feel like he was being helped off of a boat by a sailor.

Marcus laughed. “The ribs are doing much better, you know.”

“I know,” she chirped musically, exuding young energy. “I need you to save your strength so that you can escort me to the ruins on the outskirts.”

And so, the two had adventures throughout the city, a city that was so close to nature. Wild and domesticated animals appeared to be much more of a guest here than they were on earth outposts. Marcus got to pet a few of the tame herbivores. Ashlon dared to pet and coo at the small carnivores, exerting a zen-like state over her entire being that drew the animals to her. While Marcus usually zeroed in on the social dives of a place, Ashlon adored all of the other elements. The novelty of the experiences were quite welcome.

After the trip, Marcus attempted to do his regular exercises after the afternoon meal. He ended up dozing off on the sofa during a lull, only waking once Neroon came in the door. Marcus gave some sleepy sentences about the trip and let Ashlon fill her brother in. Neroon talked about his clan business in a general manner, being purposefully oblique so as to not give away internal politics. Neroon’s eyes were sparkling with thinly veiled amusement as Marcus struggled to keep his eyes open. Before Neroon could make a remark, Marcus wished them a good night and stumbled off to bed. Neroon called after him to go take his medicine. The human harrumphed, but smiled. He would have remembered. He slept deeply and for many hours for what felt like the first time in months.

Chapter Text

“Marcus, how do you fare?” Delenn’s smooth voice was only slightly muffled through the audio feed.

Marcus smiled. “Still in one piece. Neroon brought me to see your physicians yesterday. I’m sure you’ve seen the report already.”

“Yes.” She was still staring at him, studying him through the grainy feed. “You are comfortable in his household? He has not neglected you in your condition?”

Marcus could at least dispel her worry. “On the contrary, he has treated me as nothing but an honored guest, a guest that tries his patience at times...”

The Ranger smirked. Delenn tilted her head at his tone.

“Neroon’s slowly coming around to letting me take over some aspects of my treatment. My recovery is now on my own timetable.”

Marcus could now care for his own aspects of hygiene and he could walk around the house unaided. He could help Ashlon make tea for them while under supervision. Those little freedoms meant the universe for the moment.

“Then your relationship with him is no longer adversarial?”

“Not a bit.” Marcus let her read his relaxed expression. “And I have a friend. Neroon has a younger sister. She’s worker caste and she seems like someone you’d-”

“I think that you mean warrior caste,” Delenn interrupted him.

It was Marcus’s turn to be confused. “She wears worker robes and her duties seem as such.”

“I’m sure you are right,” Delenn said. “I will need to end the transmission soon. Before I end the call, you should know that Neroon asked my physicians to open your medical file. His request was denied, as he doesn’t have the medical clearance.”

Marcus made a thoughtful noise.

“Should they give him the permissions?” Delenn prompted him.

“No, I’ll talk to him. Thank you for informing me.”

Seeing that Delenn was now in a hurry to leave after being assured of his safety, Marcus gave the Entil’Zha a formal goodbye. She returned his respectful gesture and ended the call.

Marcus sat for a moment and pondered. Well, he was fairly certain he knew why Neroon wanted to look into his medical history. Anyone would be curious why Marcus’s abdomen and leg were a mess of scarring, and Neroon being so intelligent, had probably realized that he hadn’t seen all of the damage.

Delenn’s confusion about Neroon’s sister was more perplexing. Delenn had sounded so certain, like she had learned somewhere that Ashlon was warrior caste. Could it be that there was a clerical error somewhere? Somehow, Marcus doubted the theories he had so far.

“I’m going to sit by the fountain,” Marcus informed Neroon through his door. “Ashlon’s left for her duties.”

Marcus was pushing his luck, not caring if he was interrupting Neroon during something.

“Wait. I’ll be there in a moment,” Neroon’s voice sounded through the door.

The Ranger sighed, wondering how much longer he would have to endure having a minder. Nevertheless, he waited. The Minbari physicians had him on some pretty powerful medicine. He could see why he wasn’t allowed anywhere too far from supervision.

At last, Neroon joined him. They walked towards one of Marcus’s haunts. Neroon led the way, dressed in his casual clothes. His clothes were, unsurprisingly, all black, but they were styled far less stiffly than his uniform. It lended him a relaxed air.

As they strode outside, Marcus inhaled deeply. He could never get over just how fresh the air was on Minbar. He drank in the scenery before he followed Neroon towards the fountain. Ashlon had installed it herself, Marcus had learned. She had many skills, and now Marcus was wondering again about that warrior caste comment.

Marcus sat down at the foot of the gently splashing structure. Neroon crouched a little distance away, permitting the human his alone time. Well, that wouldn’t do; Marcus had questions for him. Marcus got back up and settled in beside Neroon. The Minbari gave the human a slow lazy blink.

“Neroon, I was just wondering, how common is it for Minbari to change their caste?”

The warrior raised his eyeridge. “Uncommon, but hardly unheard of. Minbari children are sometimes encouraged into a caste by their parents while their soul’s purpose lies in another. When the young one changes their caste towards their true purpose, it gives those around them peace to know that the soul has found their purpose for that lifetime.”

Detecting no disapproval in Neroon’s tone, Marcus continued. “So, about Ashlon-”

“-she was warrior caste, yes,” Neroon filled in the blank.

It explained a lot. Neroon had displayed no overt protectiveness over her, a sign that she could handle herself. Neroon had let a human live in his house with his sister. In retrospect, the act seemed brazen. Also, Ashlon did not appear to act like worker caste. With her inner strength and her sense of duty, there was obviously still a drop of warrior in her. Marcus could see why she had left. Her politics alone must have caused some adversity. She had enjoyed becoming friends with Marcus, a member of the species she had been taught to kill. Her love of life and all living things was unheard of in warrior caste.

“The warrior caste lost a great future leader that day. No one can deny their soul’s purpose, and so her lifetime was devoted to a different caste.” Neroon sounded almost morose. “We were both in training when her soul felt the call.”

“You have her friendship still,” Marcus reminded him. “You both seem happy here, on your little slice of paradise.”

“Yes,” Neroon admitted.

“Ah, and I have a question for you.” Marcus made his voice stern as he poked Neroon in the knee, not caring if the audacity shocked the warrior. “What were you doing, going behind my back to ask the physicians for my medical file when you could have simply asked me what you wanted to know?”

Neroon remained silent.

“Why didn’t you?”

Neroon shot him a look. “You had told me that your injuries had been life threatening. It is in poor form to question a warrior about mortal wounds obtained in battle without clear cause to do so. My inquiries were for the purpose of informing your treatment, nothing more.”

Marcus puzzled over how much he should tell Neroon. But then, what harm would it do? “My wounds weren’t obtained in battle, but by disease. The doctors tell me it’s incurable.”

Neroon gazed at him, clearly trying to read his expression. “This does not alarm you?”

Marcus shrugged. “It used to. I’ve spent so much of my time dying, I think I just became accustomed. I researched everything I could get my hands on for a cure. I’m still uncertain if the disease is going to try to take my life again. I find that I don’t particularly care.”

“You do not care if you live.” Neroon’s tone was difficult to gauge.

“More like I don’t care what happens now that I’ve worked so hard to cure it. Didn’t think I’d live this long, to be honest.” Marcus blew out a puff of air. “Anyway, let’s change the subject. Do I get to cook evening meal tonight? I’m pretty good at simmering meats in Minbari liquor. Add some fresh herbs and veg and voilà!”

Neroon sighed. “If you must.”

“Well, try not to sound so enthusiastic.”

The Minbari stared off into the distance now. “You should do whatever speaks to you.”

Marcus frowned at the suddenly distant warrior. Marcus supposed that the topic had gotten a little heavy. Neroon seemed to be shutting down on some level though.

“Alright. Good to know I can cook now. I’ll just come up with more things I’m allowed to do, shall I?”

Neroon had stood, startling Marcus. The Minbari offered him a hand up almost distractedly. Marcus took it.

“I should never have let you attempt the denn-shah for many reasons.” Neroon was looking at him now. “In the past, the practice was done between warring clans to prevent further ongoing bloodshed. It was never to protect an individual, to sacrifice another in their place.”

Neroon’s eyes seemed so dark as he spoke, fathomless. The human did not have much to say to that. He knew that his use of the ritual was unorthodox, as it had been yet another way to stall. Neroon had taken the bait and kept testing his certainty.

“Look, I didn't enjoy being pulverized with a denn’bok, but what’s done is done,” Marcus reminded him. “I’m alive, we’re here on Minbar. -Besides, I’m getting hungry. Humans can’t tolerate an empty stomach for long without complaining.”

He suspected that such a phenomenon also applied to certain Minbari.

“I suppose that regular meals promote healing in humans. It is my duty to ensure you heal well.”

Neroon escorted him back indoors. What the Minbari didn’t tell him was that one of the physicians had already loosely described Marcus’s injuries to him. He did not tell Marcus that he had wanted to make amends to not only his people, but to the Minbari-like soul standing beside him. He wished for that soul to keep holding onto hope, for Neroon would have regretted not meeting him.

Chapter Text

There wasn’t an altar in the guestroom. Marcus had done fine without one for long stretches, but his altar back on Babylon 5 was comforting during upheavals or times of peace. Marcus prayed every morning and meditated in the evening, which was significantly less praying than he had done as an Anla’shok initiate, but then, he was still learning much of the faith.

Marcus had suspected that Neroon’s disdain for the religious caste must have run deep from an old wound. He had no scrolls on prayer as far as Marcus could determine, but the household scrolls had many accounts of famous battles and notable warriors. The guest room had a couple of these scrolls on display, as well as a triangular vase full of dried flowers from Ashlon’s garden. The lack of family heirlooms or accounts intrigued Marcus. He did some digging through a Minbari database for some public answers, curious if there was a religious caste member in the immediate family. Neroon and Ashlon’s father was worker caste, and their mother was warrior caste, deceased. It was a peculiar pairing. Marcus did not think he would get to meet the man who had brought up such extraordinary children until one day when Ashlon invited him on an outing.

“Father is looking forward to a visit with the Anla’shok he’s heard so much about. I shall bring him some cooked meals. Would you like to meet him?”

“I’d be honored! How is your father? Neroon never mentions him.”

Ashlon looked thoughtful. “He is well, if preoccupied with his deeds. He is...one of a mind with the breeze.”

Marcus tried to decipher what that meant. “Distracted?”

“Yes!” She seemed grateful for the word. “Rather a lot these days. He used to not be so, but it sometimes comes with age.”

Marcus gave a hum. “There are similar conditions in aging humans. Do you both visit him often?”

“We try. He has many friends in town and so he is not alone. We bring him meals when we can, but our duties occupy us.”

Marcus nodded. He let Ashlon tell him the plan of retrieving groceries, coming back home to prep them, and then seeing their father in the afternoon. Marcus proclaimed that he would be happy to serve as an extra pair of hands as she visited the market. And so, the plans for the day seemed rather ordinary. If only Marcus had known how peculiar the day would become.

Later as they shopped, Ashlon had picked up some grains and was now eyeing another sack of refined material. She paused at the merchant stall, greeting the merchant and letting him tell her of their wares. Marcus hung back. The Minbari milled about gracefully in the square. The atmosphere was calm. Marcus naturally drew some stares, reactions to him ranging from polite surprise to disapproving scowls. The human did not react.

Something at a nearby stall caught his eye. It looked like they were selling a sort of prepared sea creature. The texture to the dish was unusual. Marcus barely had time to turn a few degrees before he was shoved, hard, against the stall. Someone shouted slurs at him. Marcus’s upper diaphragm came into contact with the table, whiting out his vision for a moment. He was reaching for his Denn’bok when a loud “crack” echoed through the air. Ashlon had gotten in front of him. She must have seen the attacker a second or two before he had. Marcus extended his Denn’bok and he looked for the foe...on the ground. A worker caste Minbari was crouched in the dirt, clutching at his face. Ashlon had her hand lowered, her palm flat. Marcus realized that she had slapped the attacker in the face.

“You dishonor your caste!” Ashlon screamed. “You dishonor the house of the Alyt! Begone! While there is still honor left!”

The Minbari took one look at the livid woman in front of him and then, apparently without much honor left, staggered away. Ashlon had gone into a fighting pose. For a moment, it was if she had never left the caste, the pose came so naturally. Marcus straightened up quickly, still prepared for battle as their calm surroundings erupted. Marcus was quite impressed that Ashlon had not let her instincts take over completely.

The bag of grains and their other groceries lay in the dirt. The other Minbari were asking if Marcus and Ashlon were alright, addressing Marcus as “Anla’shok.” Other workers picked up their foodstuffs quickly, dusting it off and holding onto it for them.

“You are the Anla’shok that defended the Entil’Zha!” One of the workers shouted.

A startled murmur went through the small group that had gathered. The story of the fight was murmured through the group. The human who had fought the Alyt to guard Valen’s successor was here, they said.

Marcus had needed to brush off their offers of medical attention and graciously thanked them for picking up their shopping. The subject of conversation quickly alighted on the Denn-shah, as well as Ashlon’s identity as sister to the Alyt. They were just beginning to discuss that Ashlon was warrior caste when Ashlon thankfully used her Minbari authority to get them out of there. She ushered Marcus after her as they both left the market.

“I think now is not the time to go get the rest of it,” she admitted about her ingredients. “We should go home. You need to rest your ribs and I need a moment.”

Marcus looked at her. He studied her features. Her face seemed pinched.

Seeing Marcus’s gaze, she let her expression soften. “I am alright. It has just been a long time since I have attacked another outside of training. I have certain memories attached to it.”

Ah. “Well, you handled yourself well back there. Even though you said you’re out of practice, you’re exceptionally fast.”

“I do not like striking anyone, even to defend another, but I will do so if I must to preserve life,” she admitted. “My brother would be very cross with you if you ended up puncturing a lung.”

“Speaking of your brother, I wonder if he’ll catch wind of this.”

Ashlon made a doubtful noise.

“I have heard that you two had some trouble,” Neroon said. “But since reports stated that you both walked away, am I to believe that no one was grievously injured?”

They had found Neroon seated at home, perusing some scrolls. He scanned them and their dusty groceries curiously.

“Yes,” Marcus said.

Ashlon gave him a look.

“I see. Based on my sister’s look, I will simply ask, do you need ice for your ribs to bring down the swelling?”

Neroon’s keen gaze had the tendency to miss nothing, including his hunched over posture. “Yes,” Marcus admitted, defeated.

Neroon sighed. “If you wish to go lie down, I’ll bring it in to you.”

Marcus eyed him, knowing that there was something else that Neroon wished to speak to him about. Instead of being concerned about it, Marcus found himself going to the guest room to lie down. He found that he was sore, and lying on the tilted surface versus a more suffocating horizontal position was welcome.

Neroon followed him more slowly, ice in hand. “You have a habit of attracting trouble.”

Marcus smiled. “One of my more charming qualities.”

Neroon stuffed the ice into his hand and let him place it. “While you were away, Captain Sheridan contacted me.”

Marcus blinked.

“He wants you released back on the station soon.”

“I see. What did you say?”

While Marcus knew that Ashlon liked him being here, Neroon was strictly bound by duty to house him. Marcus had a theory that Neroon likely folded to the suggestion of Denn’bok lessons to quiet him about it.

“I told him that I would give him an answer later, but I would check on your condition first to ensure that I upheld my word.”

Marcus was confused about the noncommittal response. Neroon knew that he was healing well, except for today perhaps. It was a very minor setback. But now, Neroon was looking at him strangely.

“I would need to see all of your injuries, or I could not in good conscience release you.”

“Oh, of course,” Marcus answered. He began unlatching his Ranger cloak.

“You do not understand,” Neroon said seriously, tone halting his actions. “I would need to see all of them.”

Marcus’s breath caught a little. “You mean the ones from you…”

He could see it in the Minbari’s eyes that that was not what had been meant.

“I do not enjoy causing a guest discomfort, but you must understand that I am accountable for you if they worsen.”

Marcus sighed, then grimaced as he remembered just how extensive the damage was. He had thought Neroon had already seen every inch of him, but now the Minbari was going to see as much as his surgeons had.

“Delenn’s physician told me that a scar was paining you still,” Neroon said quietly. “I have been trained as a field medic. I will be cautious.”

Marcus noticed that he did not promise to preserve his patient’s modesty as he had done before. Fulfilling such a promise would be impossible in this case.

“I guess let’s get this done with.”

“Rest easy, warrior. God holds thee/has you.”

The Minbari phrase that Neroon used to soothe him was complex and very old. The term for “Warrior” he used was the more ancient term for a clan fighter. Marcus was so taken aback by the religious elements that he nearly missed it. So, this Minbari was not completely against religion after all…

A sharp press of gloved fingers made him wince.

“It does not appear to be infected and doesn’t read as it on the scanner. I will need for you to position yourself on your side so I can see the back.”

Marcus did so, shutting his eyes and frowning deeply. Neroon seemed to pause.

“Are you in pain, Anla’shok?” He asked quietly.

Before the exam, Marcus had told him the story of how he had lost a large chunk of flesh and muscle from his pelvis. It had interfered with all of his sensitive essentials down there, including digestion and all other functions. No libido, dodgy urination, and even his back end...and then there was the complication of the flesh that had been eaten away near his spine. The surgeons had discussed with him that paralyzation had been a risk.

“I’m alright.” His voice shook.

The surgeons had done an excellent job with stopping the damage from spreading. All he had needed to sacrifice was a leg muscle that he didn’t necessarily need. After it had been used to fill the area, his functions had been restored and the injuries were no longer excruciatingly painful. Marcus concentrated on counting his lucky stars as Neroon peered at the last of the intimately hidden scarring.

“God holds thee/has you,” Neroon said comfortingly again. “You were wounded badly.”

“Don’t say that,” Marcus told him, feeling the Minbari cover him again. “I find that optimism and enjoyment in the universe is part of what keeps the disease at bay, as well as finding ways to help my mind. I’ve been alright since.”

“Enough to challenge me to the Denn-shah? That does not seem to be an optimistic and enjoyable action to take.”

Marcus cursed at him under his breath, making the Minbari laugh. Neroon took off the medical gloves and patted him on the arm. It was the first friendly touch that Neroon had given him and it felt appropriate given what he had just put him through for the sake of honor. Or...concern.

Marcus frowned in puzzlement as he watched the Minbari leave the room. He hadn’t expected to be mocked or anything similar, but he hadn’t expected such compassion as he had received either. What was it, “I’ve killed 50,000 of you, what’s one more?” to “I would need to see all of your injuries, or I could not in good conscience release you.” What had changed his tune? Was it this place?

Marcus got up and retrieved all of his clothes, hastily dressing. He sat on the meditation mat by the window, still moving gingerly. He settled in and took deep, full breaths, holding the ice. Whatever the cause for the kindness he had received here, he was grateful. It gave him a warm settled feeling that he had not felt for many years.

Chapter Text

Marcus tugged on the second layer of the ceremonial garment. The fabric was white with tones of a cool blue. The material was alien, so soft and liquid in nature that it rippled over him like he had stepped into a natural stream. Ashlon had prepared him for this ceremony only slightly, giving him an agenda and then encouraging him to experience the rest. Marcus was not familiar with the ceremony, as it was usually done with Minbari families. Today he was to be a participating guest.

Marcus walked towards the living area in the apartment of Ashlon and Neroon’s father. Ashlon was already there waiting for him. Neroon and the elderly Minbari were slower to emerge. Ashlon smiled warmly as she lifted up a teal wrap to be tied with slim and strong cording around him. Every Minbari family had a traditional colour of the wrap for the ceremony. Marcus stepped forward to accept the garment. Ashlon’s deft fingers were quick, tucking the fabric in at the edges and then expertly winding the cords into knots. As Marcus was being dressed, Neroon emerged, almost out of place with the contrast of his very spiked bone crest and the soft clothing.

“I would remark that he was my responsibility due to his being a male guest, but I know that there’s no stopping you,” Neroon said wryly.

“Indeed,” Ashlon replied. “Father always insists on completing yours, now I get the opportunity to do one.”

She finished the ceremonial wrap and placed her hands towards the back of the human’s head to draw it forwards. She kissed Marcus ritualistically on the forehead. It lingered only for a moment, but the Minbari form of love given to another during such a formal tradition was still something that took Marcus’s breath away. He often avoided these ceremonies with the Anla’shok. He had been unable to escape all of the traditions though, and he had felt obligated to participate in this one.

Neroon’s father had emerged. He began draping his son just as Marcus realized that it was his turn to kiss the man’s daughter. Marcus reminded himself that this was perfectly normal for them and he was doing nothing untoward as he cupped Ashlon’s nape. He kissed her brow. She laughed merrily.

“Your facial hair! What a peculiar sensation.”

Marcus did not miss Neroon dryly side eyeing her as a silent plea for her to behave. Marcus tried to stop himself from staring as Neroon was wrapped by his worker caste parent, but there was something mesmerizing about Neroon speaking with his father. Neroon patiently waited while the cords were tied around him, telling his father that Ashlon was going to do the reading today. Lethenn, their father, didn’t speak much, but he seemed rather proud of his children. Lethenn kissed Neroon’s forehead. Neroon had closed his eyes.

“Ashlon can complete mine if you want to see to our guest,” Lethenn told Neroon.

Neroon raised a sardonic brow. “Tiring of the way I wrap yours, father? I will not make it tight this time.”

“You know that I am perfectly happy with how you wrap mine,” Lethenn told him. “It’s just that Ashlon said that she likes doing this part.”

Neroon gave a light joking grumble. “Very well. Come here, Marcus. I will do the return gesture to you.”

This part had been mentioned in the small scroll on the ceremony. Everyone was to give each member a gesture of holy love, whether it was a kiss on the brow or an embrace or anything else that was deemed fit. Due to Marcus’s condition, he knew that he would have to receive mostly attention to his forehead.

“You seem quiet,” Neroon observed.

Neroon was remarkably relaxed around them all, as if having his family around him took away his formality just like it would with a human and their family. Marcus approached and let the Minbari kiss his brow.

“I’m simply surprised to be invited, I suppose,” Marcus admitted.

He cupped the back of Neroon’s head without thinking about it and returned the gesture, forgetting for a moment that he could have safely embraced the Minbari. He drew back just a hair too quickly from both gestures.

Neroon looked a little like he had been rebuffed, but he did not comment on it. Instead, he went to go do the wrapping ceremony for his sister. Marcus went over to Lethenn, reminding himself that for this instance he had to touch and be touched. It was not something so common in human history. Due to plague and contagious illness, so much contact was not something that was still commonly found in human religious practices. Marcus opted for making his gesture an embrace this time, trusting Lethenn to be gentle with the gesture.

“Neroon!” Ashlon squawked.

Marcus peered over Lethenn’s shoulder to see that Neroon had lifted Ashlon’s feet off the ground with his hug. Neroon chuckled as Ashlon demanded that he put her down. He did, giving her a more loving brotherly embrace.

“It is time to eat, you two,” Lethenn reminded Ashlon and Neroon. “Hopefully my offspring have not been too rambunctious during your convalescence.”

Marcus laughed. He was beginning to find that he liked Lethenn and the family’s relationship with each other. There were all stunningly unique and yet had many similarities.

They went into the small dining room to eat a meal of fresh produce. It was part of their thanks for the harvest. After the generous helping, they were to go to the temple grounds and read scripture. Ashlon would have to leave early for her duties, but she would start off the reading. Marcus was expected to listen and participate for as long as it lasted.

Ashlon’s reading lulled them all as they sat beneath the plants on the town’s temple grounds. A few other families were there at varying distances away on a few blankets. Some were in blue or a sunny yellow and a deep green. Their wraps were different styles as well.

Their own spread was rather like a picnic but without the food. As they sat on a blanket in their very soft robes in the light breeze, Marcus thought that it was possibly the most tranquil gathering he had ever experienced. Ashlon finished her passage and took her leave, stating that she would see Neroon and Marcus back at home later. She passed the reading to her brother, who continued in his deep sonorous voice. Neroon acted like this was an every day occurrence, like this wasn’t fundamentally amazing at its core. Here was a peaceful family enjoying themselves in holiness and comfort. It was too painful for Marcus to enjoy at times.

Lethenn put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a smile. Marcus patted his arm and absorbed the surroundings.

Chapter Text

It was raining on Minbar. The water was exceptionally cold as it pummeled the withering plants and the windowpanes. Marcus watched the rain come down and observed as the deluge was drained into a series of run off systems. Both Ashlon and Neroon had left for the day, called in for pressing matters. The work system was noticeably slower on Minbar than the breakneck pace that humans grinded away at, and so they had been afforded more time to be at home before today. Marcus could sense an ending soon.

Neroon’s teachings had picked up in ferocity. While he was obviously still holding back much of his strength in their denn’bok sessions, he had been giving Marcus a lot of information quickly. He had forced Marcus to lean more heavily on his Muay Thai fighting techniques. Marcus had begun to do inside leg sweeps, which seemed to satisfy the Minbari. He encouraged Marcus to play to his strengths instead of treating them like an impediment. Neroon specialized in brute arm strength as well as advanced reactionary denn’bok technique, which had been partly why he had trounced Marcus so effortlessly, and of course, the many extra years of practice.

Delenn’s physicians had given Marcus less poking and prodding during his last visit. They had noticed that some of his dissolvable stitches had broken from the vigorous fights, but they had praised Neroon’s decision to try to involve Marcus in healing his old scars. It was apparently a Minbari practice to involve a patient in caring for marks on their skin, as the psychological investment in treating such wounds benefited more than the body. In that light, Neroon’s reaction to his injuries seemed logical for a Minbari. Before the Denn-shah, Marcus’s healers had all been human, so he hadn’t come across this difference before.

It looked like Marcus was truly on the mend at last. So why did this rainy day feel some sort of way?

Marcus supposed that his year spent on Minbar for training had not exactly lent itself to cheerful exploration. He had spent that year in intensive study. Every day he had been fighting, learning the three languages, meditating, and also associating with Ranger One. Now he had practically been a tourist.

Neroon had also turned out to be prejudiced to nearly every other human. Whether it was because he was “The Denn-shah Anla’shok” or because Neroon was self-congratulatory for having secured for his sister a sort of helper, regardless of species, it was hard to say how Marcus had landed in the category of exception. Marcus had found out in some back channels that Neroon had originally been trying to become Entil’ Zha not only for the position, but for the purpose of involving more Minbari in the organization. He had felt that the mob of humans still pervading the Anla’shok ranks was a mistake when the Anla’shok could have been exclusively guarding Minbari interests. Of course, Delenn filling the role had been a step too far.

Marcus exhaled through his nose as he drew a fingertip down the pane. He wondered if he would ever see the two again after he left. Ashlon had revealed to him that she would be moving away soon. Neroon would be keeping this place by himself as his father seemed unlikely to leave his house in the heart of town. Marcus had no doubt that Ashlon would fare well wherever she went, but her brother would experience her loss. Marcus could see it clearly, and he knew that Ashlon had detected it as well. Still, for some people, life had a way of working itself out eventually. It was always other people who experienced that sort of justice.

Marcus clenched his teeth as he drew his next fingertip across the window, making the material produce a loud resonant screech. The sound was an inky black void. Marcus eyed up the window’s construction, determining the best way to break it. He quickly reminded himself to stop. He did allow himself to strike the sill and make it shake. Repressed anger. He was careful to not leave a trace.

“A part of the heart goes dead,” he had told Delenn and Lennier during that first meeting when Delenn asked him if he believed in legends regarding the Anla’shok. So why did it feel like life had breathed on him here? How could his necrotic tissue still feel it?

Marcus swallowed and leaned his head against the window pane, waiting for Ashlon and Neroon to come home.

Chapter Text

“Marcus! Do you wish to go see the nearby waterfalls before the light fades?” Ashlon, it seemed, was preparing for another adventure.

The rivers would be swollen with water due to all of the rain they had been getting. The sun was setting, but there was still light enough to see for an hour or so.

“It’s a shame my brother isn’t back yet. He could take us crimp fishing,” she continued thoughtfully.

“Crimps are those bug-eyed creatures that live in the riverbanks, aren’t they?” Marcus asked.

“Yes. They hide among the rocks waiting for their prey. They dig deep down between the rocks. Neroon was always best at finding them.”

Her tone had warmed and Marcus surmised that it was a fond memory for her. Marcus could picture it, the two small Minbari wandering the riverbanks and young Neroon finding the hidden creatures to show to his energetic younger sister.

“We should go see if we can find them. It’s a catch and release system you have in place, I’m guessing?”

“Well, mostly,” Ashlon said. She did not elaborate.

‘Nearby waterfalls’ did not exactly capture the impressive scale of terrain they had to traverse to find the large torrents of water that thundered across the hills. The natural pathways were flooded, forcing Marcus and Ashlon to become creative with their crossings. Many of the stones were slick with plant life. They kept an eye out for each other, stepping carefully. Marcus’s robes became cumbersome, so he paused briefly to tie up the layer near his shoulder.

“All that rain made the falls gigantic!” Marcus shouted above the din of the pounding water.

“Yes!” Ashlon yelled.

She stepped with little care to her footing now, too eager to see what was hidden here and there among the stones and shrubs.

“Marcus, look! I see one.” She stepped on a rock that looked particularly green.

“Ashlon!”

She uttered a small shriek that sounded dismayed with the indignity more than anything. She had kept herself on her feet, only slipping down into water to her thighs before she scrambled up to more stable ground.

“Ashlon, are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” She headed in his direction as Marcus rushed over to her.

Ashlon took one look at Marcus and then at her sodden trousers and drenched hem of her shorter robes before dissolving into laughter. Her laughter was infectious and Marcus found himself guffawing along with her.

“Oh.” She wiped tears from her eyes, gasping for air as their hilarity died down. “I’m drenched. The walk back is going to be cold.”

“Here.”

Marcus quickly loosened his ranger cloak and draped it around her. He fastened it with his chilly fingers. She smiled appreciatively at the gesture.

“Thank you. Now I look like an Anla’shok,” she said with a chuckle.

“It suits you. It will keep you warmer, anyway, until we reach home.” Marcus noticed his own penchant for using the sacred term.

Ashlon nodded. She began making plans to stop along a slightly calmer riverbank on their way back, one that was guaranteed to have a crimp or two in its depths. Marcus dutifully followed her, watching as she expertly navigated the remaining terrain in his cloak. It seemed that her spill had made her more cautious.

Marcus and Ashlon arrived home swiftly with a small catch of crimp. Marcus had been told to be careful about eating much, as they were very specifically suited for a Minbari digestive system. The crimp had served as an ancient food source for the Minbari. They could even eat the creatures raw.

Ashlon had immediately gone to her room to change out of her soaked clothing, leaving their catch on a kitchen surface. Marcus went over to inspect them. He would liken them to a spiny lobster, or crayfish as some humans called them. In the background, Marcus heard the telltale signs of Neroon returning. He recognized the footsteps in the entryway. Neroon eventually came in, undoing his overcloak.

“Ah, Ashlon is still at home?”

“We were just out for a walk to see the waterfalls. We brought back a catch of-”

Marcus spun around as Neroon all but fell into a nearby chair. He was making a most peculiar noise. The Minbari’s entire body was shaking.

“Neroon? Neroon!”

It became clear that Neroon was having some sort of fit. The sound was like nothing the human had ever heard a Minbari emit before, like sneezing and coughing spasms but more guttural.

“Neroon!” Marcus rushed over to him. “You’re choking?”

Marcus made to grab him about the waist and lift him up from his seated position. He had just seized Neroon when the warrior pushed him back with his palm to the Ranger’s chest.

“Stop,” Neroon said. He cleared his throat and was overtaken with another bout.

Ashlon came up from behind the human. “Marcus, it is alright.” Ashlon took his arm. “It’s normal, this is normal for a Minbari.”

Marcus watched as Neroon struggled for air and kept a restraining hand on his chest. How could this possibly be normal? The alarming sounds quickly ceased.

“All is well, Anla’shok.”

Neroon was looking into his eyes. The Minbari kept his gaze firm. Marcus stood down and his wild heartbeat slowed. The Minbari was not choking at least. Still, what the hell-?

“That was a muscle spasm of the throat,” Neroon said calmly. “It’s involuntary and happens from time to time.”

“I was about to give you a Heimlich maneuver. I’ve never heard a sound like that before.”

Neroon smirked. “It’s a nuisance, nothing more. It’s the same muscle that ensures that we rest at a 45 degree angle to keep our airways clear.”

Neroon was still looking at him, as if he could see the human’s thoughts behind his eyes. Marcus had really believed he had been- Looking back at the incident, it occurred to Marcus that he had sounded somewhat like a cat with a hairball having a sneezing fit. The silly thought did a great deal to relax him.

The Ranger exhaled and pulled away from the brother and sister. “I suppose humans have a sort of equivalent of that with their hiccups, but the sounds aren’t usually that rapid.”

“Hiccups?” Ashlon repeated curiously.

Marcus told them about how the vocal chords could spasm and make a strange involuntary noise. Marcus had thought that they had known everything about each others peoples, but incidents like this still happened between species. He wondered idly how Delenn must have handled some of the human characteristics of her body.

Their evening settled down and they had leftovers for evening meal. Neroon took a snack out of their catch. His crunching on the exoskeleton was the only indicator that he had stolen one. Minbari. Marcus shook his head. He had thought he had been taught everything about them, a presumption that needed reexamination.

Chapter Text

“You look deep in thought,” Neroon stated.

“No, I’m pilfering your food stores,” Marcus said cheerfully. “There’s still some roasted squash left if you would like any.”

Marcus was still learning some of the names of the more nuanced varieties of crops that were on Minbar, and so he had used a more general term. There were heirloom seeds of things out of circulation that Ashlon favored. Some of the vegetables appeared very quaint.

Marcus had been rummaging about in the kitchen when Neroon had come upon him. The Minbari seemed to be spending more time around him now that the last day of Marcus’s company loomed.

“No, thank you. Though I am sure my sister would want you to take more of it back with you,” Neroon stated.

“Can’t, I’m afraid. Customs has been tighter than ever lately and all produce needs to go through certain channels. However, I appreciate the offer.”

Neroon hummed. Marcus procured for himself a bowl of the stuffed vegetables and let the box close. He took a large crunching bite as he ventured into the sitting room. Neroon followed him at a distance. It was a stark contrast to how the Minbari had treated him when Marcus had first arrived. Though, to be fair, Neroon had needed to keep a weather eye on him then. Marcus had huffed and grumbled only a little, but in the end, he had known that both of them had only been trying to assist. Marcus had just wanted to be recovered, and for the most part he was now. Even his old pains had been remedied.

He glanced back at Neroon as he took a seat opposite to him. The Minbari fished something out of a hidden pocket.

“You must wear this when you depart. It is in my house colours to indicate that you are returning from seeking refuge here. You will present it to either Delenn or Sheridan as is custom.”

Neroon placed a brooch in the shape of some leaves on the sitting room table. The mottle of teal and blue seemed to spiral mesmerizingly around on the metal shapes. Marcus set aside his bowl for a moment as he examined it. He picked it up, noting its weightiness for so small an object.

“Thank you. I thought that this was primarily done between clans?” Marcus voiced curiously.

Historically, it had served as a peace offering to adorn an opposing clan member with house colours and symbols if they had been taken in and tended to by an opposing clan. It had originally been a practice of the religious caste, healing and returning warriors to certain clans to help broker a peace. It had spread throughout the castes over the cycles due to its strategic value in certain scenarios.

“It is. Given the graveness of my...miscalculation, the gesture will be taken with the proper consideration.”

Marcus looked at the pin with new wonder. The ever-changing political landscape was something that many Minbari had trouble keeping up with, but even Marcus could not fail to grasp some of the gravity of giving this to Delenn. Marcus could understand the public display of making peace with the Entil’ Zha to gain back popularity, but this went beyond.

“I’m sure she’ll receive it well. In fact, I’m certain she’ll be over the moon.”

Say what you will about the warrior, he rarely did anything by halves.

Ashlon and Neroon were seeing Marcus off while being accompanied by two of Neroon’s warriors. Marcus was facing them on the loading platform, preparing to say his goodbyes.

“Are you certain you can’t stay another cycle?” Ashlon asked. “There is still so much you haven’t seen! And then there is the festival of spiritual enlightenment soon. You would have enjoyed it. There is so much storytelling through illusion.”

“The Anla’shok have to go through limited retraining every five years and Minbar has a training facility. Look at it this way, you might see me before then. The Entil’Zha will need the Anla’shok more than ever to be her eyes and ears. I promise that if I have any leisure time on Minbar, it will be all yours. Wouldn’t miss it,” Marcus finished warmly.

Marcus turned to Neroon who...appeared to be doing a combination of bowing and curtsying? Then he remembered the sort of complicated footwork Minbari did with signs of respect, or the more ancient signs anyway. Neroon was such a traditionalist. Marcus shouldn’t have been surprised.

Marcus quickly tried to determine how Neroon had moved so that he could copy it. But as Neroon rose up, he spoke through the corner of his mouth like he was doing a ventriloquism act.

“Don’t!” He said dangerously. “Don’t return it,” he muttered.

So Neroon was the giver and Marcus was expected to receive. It was a public display of reconciliation. Marcus instead smiled amicably. A thought occurred to him.

“May I?” Marcus opened his arms. “Both of you.”

He was surprised when his hosts came to him. His heart soared as he squeezed the Minbari. If they were receiving any dismayed or shocked looks from the others present, Marcus was oblivious. For a blissful moment he was alive. He breathed deeply, feeling as though he had drifted off the ground.

When they pulled away from each other, Ashlon gave a soft laugh. “Go before you make me start to weep.”

Neroon placed a hand on her back. For a moment, they appeared to show their relation through the crinkle under their eyes and expressions. They both briefly watched Marcus pick up his luggage and head out. Marcus watched them depart as he boarded the transport and took a seat. Marcus made a mental note to gift Lennier with favors. He had been right that Minbar had been the place to begin recovering. Marcus placed a hand on his chest beside the two pins on his uniform.