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Chapter Text

"John!"

The darkness enveloped her, pulling her in, grasping at her even as she fought to be free of it. She screamed his name again, unaware that she was doing so aloud and that she would soon attract the attention of her aide. She forced her eyes open, fumbling blindly at her side for the light. His name was the only word on her lips, a prayer to be said over and over, and she hadn't the presence of mind to call for the lights to be raised. Instead she swept a hand awkwardly at the small pyramid to the side of her bed; it cast a pale, almost sickly glow over her distressed expression before falling with a muffled thud to the floor.

The sound brought back a flood of images she was trying hard to remove from her mind: the sound of breaking glass, of an oddly-shaped object rolling lopsidedly in the shadow of a shadow. His face, her face, the flat impersonality of a computer screen, the sight of her own reflection streaked with tears, her robe soaked with them. Then the peaceful pain of the candle flame in the darkness, the only warmth she had felt in her life for three weeks now.

She stood up, the room once again in darkness. It was preferable that way; at least she didn't have to see the tangled bedclothes and tear-soaked pillows, the evidence of yet another nightmare. Didn't have to see the tidiness and normality around her that served only as a reminder that life was supposed to go on. She didn't want it to go on. Not alone, not again.

Not without him.

"John." The sound of his name on her lips was a bittersweet pain, a reminder of both what he had given her and what she had lost. What good was knowing their love was real if he was gone, and she had not even a body to mourn? No one would dare make the journey to retrieve him; even if they went as far as Z'Ha'Dum, they wouldn't touch the surface. Most still didn't believe he had managed to do so.

It made her angry, that they could dismiss him so easily. He had given so much for them, given his life for them so Ivanova and the others believed, and yet they protested it was not enough.

These days, these mornings, in the dark and the silence and the sorrow, that anger was all that kept her going.

She showered and dressed quietly, not even affording the kitchen a glance as she knelt and silently replaced the candle to begin her vigil anew. Lennier would wake soon, and he would find her, as he did every morning, praying. Praying that John might still be alive. Praying that he might come back to her. Praying that he might forgive her, that he had not meant his last words to her face. Praying that she might hear him tell her he loved her, in person.

Praying that she would have the strength to go on without him.

Tentative footsteps behind her alerted her to Lennier's presence. He was dressed and ready for the day, as always. Part of her felt ashamed of leaving him to continue her work while she sat in the darkness; guilty, as well, for what she was putting him through. He cared deeply for her, even now she could understand that, and to see her acting this way hurt him deeply. She knew that he believed she was starving herself, having eaten nothing for almost two weeks now; she could not tell him that every time she ate she had only the time to run to the bathroom before she was violently sick, nor that she was almost sure she knew the reason. Only by pretending she had eaten during the day, while he was away, had she managed to keep him from calling a physician to see her. She knew that soon, very soon now - perhaps even today - he would report her condition to Stephen Franklin, something she desperately did not want. She could not reveal to Lennier, or to anyone, what she knew Franklin would confirm as soon as he examined her. She did not want to starve; the thought of harming what might be all she had left of John hurt almost as much as the thought that he might never know what had happened during their last and only night together.

Besides that, she reminded herself as she saw Lennier enter the kitchen and concentrated harder on the candle, she believed John might still be alive. She did believe it. She must believe it.

Lennier looked at her, and she forced herself not to meet his gaze. He would only express his concern for her again, and it was becoming almost more than she could bear. He didn't know, of course, that his subtle over-protectiveness reminded her only that much more of John Sheridan - or that she knew that if John was gone, he was the only one she had left who loved her and might possibly love her child.

He continued to look at her for a long moment, and Delenn felt tears well in her eyes. Finally, he turned away without speaking, but she felt his concern and perhaps even disapproval for what she was doing to herself. He would never say it aloud, of course, for which she was glad, but she felt it all the same in the resigned silence of his departure.

The door cycled shut behind him, and only then did Delenn allow herself to look away from the candle flame, turning her head away from the door as if he might still be standing there. She kept silent only for fear of alienating him, knowing that his disapproval was nothing now in comparison to how he would react to the news that she carried John's child. Lennier was not ignorant: he knew what had to have occurred between them to allow this to happen. Delenn, also, was not ignorant: she knew how many rules and rituals she had ignored, and however little she cared, there was no excuse among Minbari. She would be lucky if Lennier would be able to make himself stand by her, and she had given up hope that she would return home as anything more than a disgrace. She was already looked upon as an embarrassment to her people; the knowledge that she had deliberately broken her people's highest rules and mated with a non-Minbari would be enough to guarantee that she and her child would be outcasts for the rest of their lives. It was little comfort to her that Valen had been through the same, and she found it only ironic that their lives should be so similar.

If John were here... She stopped the thought. Nothing mattered if she could have him back. She would gladly be an outcast, a freak, a disgrace, anything if he were to walk in and take her in his arms. But if she had truly lost him...

She had few tears left these days, but what she did welled in her eyes, spilling silently down her cheeks. She reached up to wipe them away, allowing herself the fantasy that it was John's hand on her face, his fingertips that dried her tears. But Delenn was Minbari, and fantasies came hard to her. Reality was an easy intruder, and it brought only more tears.

It was late afternoon, or growing that way. The lights were down, as they always were, but Delenn didn't notice. She was focused on the flickering candle flame, on the way it danced slowly, almost sadly, a kindred spirit for her emotions. The door sounded; she blinked, taking a long moment to draw herself out of the meditations that took up her day. The buzzer sounded once, twice more before she was completely awake, turning to look at it. Lennier would not use the chime and she did not want visitors. Perhaps if she ignored them, whoever it was might leave her alone.

She stood carefully, walking slowly to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and taking a grateful sip. It was all she could drink without feeling unwell... and she hoped suddenly that it was not Franklin behind the door. It chimed again; she stood still, willing them to leave her alone.

There was an unusual chirp, and then the door slid open. Delenn froze, afraid suddenly to speak or move lest whoever it was see her.

"Ambassador?" She cursed, a word John had very reluctantly taught her, at the sound of the doctor's voice. "Delenn?" He turned, looking for her, and in the darkness her glass caught the light from the doorway. Franklin stopped in his tracks, looking directly at her. "Hello, Delenn."

"Stephen," she said slowly. She gripped the glass in both hands, wishing she didn't feel so vulnerable. "Did Lennier ask you to come here, or did you take it upon yourself?"

"He said you weren't eating." He was trying to sound sympathetic, but she could sense his disapproval even more than Lennier's. Franklin could be fanatical about medical matters, and it was easy to see from her figure that she had been mistreating herself.

"I'm not hungry," she told him with a slight shrug.

Franklin wasn't buying. "Lennier may keep quiet out of respect for you, Ambassador, but I'm not Minbari. I don't respect you enough to let you starve yourself to death. That won't bring him back and you know it."

She took a step back, hurt by his tone. "You believe... that John is dead." He was silent; she wanted to hit him, to force him to admit that it might not be true. Her voice was deceptively timid, painful. "You believe it. You all believe it."

"It's been nearly three weeks," Franklin reminded her. "And that's three weeks since you ate anything. I know Minbari can fast for a long time, but you're not fully Minbari any more."

"I have eaten," she protested. He looked at her enquiringly, stepping forward with scanner at the ready. She backed up another half-step, but there was nothing she could do to keep him from his duty. She tried to remind herself that John would want this, and that he would be horrified to see her like this when and if he returned. And if she lost his child because of it...

"I have eaten," she repeated insistently to Franklin as he studied his readout. "But..." She took in a shaking breath. "I get sick."

He looked up at her, and she almost saw the switch between personal and professional. "After you eat?"

"Yes. No." She took another breath, shaking with the fear of admitting this to him. "When I begin to eat. I can't drink anything either, only water."

He frowned, and she didn't protest as he adjusted his scanner and started to pass it over her again, more slowly. "But you're not sick if you don't eat?"

"No." She sighed. "Sometimes a little dizzy, disoriented, nothing more."

"How are you sleeping?"

She took an angry step back and stared at him. "How do you think I am sleeping?" she demanded. "I don't sleep. I have nightmares, every night." Anger filled her throat, choking her voice. "I cry myself to sleep, and I wake up doing the same. I see his face, and her face, every time I close my eyes. I hear voices telling me he's dead, and whenever I see anyone their face says the same. The way yours does now." She pushed his hand roughly away. "Lennier will tell you I am starving myself to death, because that is what he believes. He believes John is dead, just as you do. As everyone does."

"And you don't." He knew well enough to make it a statement. Delenn half-smiled humorlessly.

"I have to have faith, Stephen. I'm nothing without him."

"Delenn," he started, but she shook her head and moved past him to the slowly melting candle.

"You should have seen it by now, Stephen." When he frowned in confusion, she smiled and leaned over, lightly blowing out the candle. "I am... how do Humans say it? Oh, yes." She smiled painfully. "With child. John's child."

His eyes widened, and he crossed the room to check her already certain diagnosis. The look on his face told her without words what she already knew.

"I am right."

"Yes." He nodded, and when he looked at her his concern had evolved into alarm. "I need to get you to MedLab to do some more tests. There's only so much I can do here, and you need some nutrients in you. I don't know how you've managed this long." He started to pack his medical kit away. "Why haven't you told anyone before now?"

"You would not understand." She turned away from him, clasping her hands in front of her, restless now she finally had company.

"Try me." He picked up the case and held out a hand, gesturing for her to precede him. Delenn stepped back to the couch, away from the door.

"I can't leave here. I can't..." She took a deep breath, appealing desperately to him. "It was hard enough to tell you, and that I did only out of concern for the child. If anyone were to find out..."

Franklin frowned at her reluctance. "Look, Delenn, I appreciate that this is a sensitive matter. But if you stay here and you don't eat, sooner or later you and your child will die. You know that."

She looked down. "I know."

Concerned and somewhat perplexed at her behaviour, he put down the case and sat down carefully next to her on the couch. "You may not want to hear this, but you are more than just the captain's partner, in whatever sense you want to think of it. You're not nothing just because he's gone."

"He isn't..." She stopped and looked away, one hand covering her tender abdomen, shaking her head tiredly. "The highest law among my people is to keep our race pure, Stephen. They may not show it often, but many Minbari are not... tolerant of other cultures. Other races." She sighed, looking carefully at him. "You know that many of my people despised my change. They sent me away because they did not want to look on a Minbari with a Human face." She shook her head at his sympathetic touch on her arm. "They want the Minbari to be pure, Stephen. It has been that way as long as we've known others existed. No Minbari has ever taken an alien for a mate, and they would never be permitted to have children if they did."

He looked at her, stunned by her words. She appealed to him again, trying to make him understand.

"We have rules, Stephen. Rituals that must be followed." She allowed herself a very slight smile; it was all she could muster. "Quite a number of them, actually." Memories, as clear as crystal, flashed through her mind. "I didn't care. We had each other, and that was all that mattered. I didn't..." she coloured, embarrassed to be discussing this with him. "I didn't think."

"You didn't follow the rules," he elaborated carefully. Delenn shook her head silently, unable to look at him. "Is it really that important?"

"I will be fortunate if I have a home to return to," she said softly. "As for a family..." She lifted her head, only realising when she saw his face that she must be crying again. "I'm lucky, I suppose. Most of my family died years ago. At least they will not suffer my disgrace."

Franklin just shook his head in disbelief. "You're telling me that just because you picked a guy they don't like, you're what? In exile for the rest of your life?"

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'Starkiller', Stephen?" she asked ruefully. He winced. She nodded weakly, her expression achingly alone. "John is Human. My child will be more Human than Minbari, but Earth will never be their home. Neither will Minbar, if those in power have their choice. This is our oldest and highest law, Stephen - and that we performed none of the rituals..." she shook her head, clasping her hands protectively over her growing child. "I will be lucky if Lennier stays when he hears of this."

The doctor frowned, trying to work out the situation. He obviously believed it to be less final than it was, Delenn thought painfully. "There's no way you could pretend you performed all these rituals?"

"Not all of them are private, Stephen," she told him tiredly. He raised an eyebrow but let it pass. She smiled and laid a hand tentatively on his arm. "Thank you, but there is nothing you can do."

"There is." He stood up, grasping her hand before she could pull it back. "I'm taking you to MedLab. If I have to, I'll sedate you, but I'd rather you came willingly." He held up a hand to halt her protest. "None of this goes any further than this room. If anyone asks, I'll make your excuses - and that includes to Lennier, but you are coming to MedLab. You can't go on like this."

Delenn paused; after a long moment she nodded hesitantly and stood up. "All right."

"Good." He picked up his case, gesturing for her to go first; as the door opened she blinked into the light, covering her sudden reaction by turning back briefly to look at him.

"Thank you, Stephen."

Franklin smiled, putting one hand on her arm to guide and support her. "It's my job. That and the captain would kill me if I didn't do something."

Delenn swallowed back the emotions those words caused. "Thank you," she said in a whisper. He smiled back and nodded, guiding her toward the transport tube.

"This way."

When they reached MedLab, she was grateful for Franklin's personal attention: he put her in a private room, instructing his staff that he alone would be treating her, citing her emotional state as a reason. He did, however, allow one nurse to attend her; a young woman by the name of Megan who was too timid to speak to her, let alone ask any questions. Franklin ran all the tests - and there were many - himself, leaving instructions for the nurse to set up an IV. Food, Delenn supposed, in some form anyway. He'd also left some tablets, with the instruction that she was to take them every four hours, and injected her with at least four different types of drug once he received the preliminary test results. Lennier arrived soon after that, and although he looked concerned Delenn could see he was pleased that something was being done for her. She sighed painfully, leaning back against the pillows they had provided and briefly closing her eyes. He wanted to ask questions, she could see it in his expression; just as he had wanted to that morning, but as always he held back. Out of respect, Franklin had said: she studied him as discreetly as she could, wondering if that were completely true. She knew he respected her, of course... but that was perhaps not all. He had pledged himself to her side, and Delenn knew something Franklin did not - that her young aide cared much more for her than he told or showed anyone. She wondered, as she lay back and let Franklin take yet another blood sample, what she could have done to attract such attention from him. But then, what had she done to deserve John's feelings for her?

That thought made her throat close up, and a slight sound of pain escaped her lips. Franklin apologised, obviously believing it to be his fault, and she saw Lennier start forward out of the corner of the room. She turned her face away, not wanting him to see her pain now. He had endured it long enough; at least tonight he would sleep peacefully, without her sobbing and screaming in the next room. She glanced back and saw him, standing stoically once again, watching with concern as Franklin put the blood sample in a portable machine that she imagined ran some sort of test. He measured out some kind of drug into an injector, placing it beside the bed as she looked at him in confusion.

"It's just a sedative. I want to check a couple more tests," he glanced at Lennier out of the corner of his eye, "then you can get a good night's sleep." Now he turned to look fully at the younger Minbari. "Why don't you go back to the Ambassador's quarters and get anything she needs? There's nothing else you can do here for now."

Lennier looked at her for permission: Delenn nodded gratefully, watching him go with no small amount of relief. Franklin smiled reassuringly at her expression.

"I'll give you the sedative in a moment. You'll be asleep before he comes back. I'll send him home."

She smiled slightly back at him. "Thank you, Stephen. For everything."

"No problem." He held up the injector, and she obligingly held out her arm. "Goodnight, Ambassador."

It seemed to take effect almost immediately; no sooner had he emptied the injector into her arm than she felt her eyes begin to close beyond her ability to control them. Franklin drew the light cover over her, and the last thing she saw was his reassuring smile before she slipped into a blessed oblivion.

She was running. She didn't remember where she was, or who she was, or what she had been doing before. She seemed to have been running for as long as she could imagine, perhaps even longer. Whether she was running from something or to something, she was no longer sure.

It was dark where she ran, and old, over a thousand years older than she. Tall, broken stone spires jutted up from the ground itself, covered in dark, spidery writing that seemed in its very essence to be evil, no matter what it said. She could not read it: the script was alien to her even if she had been able to stop and make out the characters. Although the reason was unclear to her, she did remember that she must not stop running, whatever happened.

The ground was a dark, dusty brown-red, with no sign of life anywhere. It was hard; she fell in her haste and felt the pain of rock and bone connecting. She struggled up, knowing she must keep running, just a little further: the dust clung to her clothes, to her face, and as she reached up to wipe it away she felt a warm stickiness under her left eye. Blood - she was bleeding from the fall. There were things here that craved her blood, she remembered: not the taste of it but the sight of it, of her, dead on the ground.

A scream pierced the dead air, and she remembered.

The Shadow resembled nothing she had ever seen on her homeworld, but it still seemed familiar somehow. Although she had never seen a Shadow being before, she knew it instantly. She raised her gun and fired, again and again and again and again until it screamed once more and lunged for her. She stood her ground, the small gun aimed directly at its head, and fired.

The Shadow shrieked agony, and she saw the light fade from its many eyes even as it disappeared from in front of her. She had no idea where the Shadows went when they died, only that she had sent any number of them there in the last hour. Hurriedly, before another one of them could find her from the death throes of this one, she changed direction and ran toward the ruins. They towered over her, but she used that to her advantage: another came after her, but the ruins hid her from its view. For all their power in space, the Shadows were easy enough to evade on the ground. Their power now came from their advantage - they were on home ground, and she was running for her life.

Her pursuer broke off to the screaming call of another of its brethren; using the moment she changed direction again, running back the way she had come. She did not remember precisely why, but she knew she had to reach the human habitation. There was where she could do what she had to do. She reached for her link; it was buried in her pocket, but working and awaiting her instructions. It was difficult to input the right code while she ran; seeing the entrance only a hundred or so meters away, she ducked behind a boulder and completed the instructions. Praying that it was right, having no way to know, she left the final code uncompleted. All it needed was the last digit and it would activate, and the city would be destroyed.

She ran, knowing full well that she was visible to them, heading for the entrance. She made it with only a few meters to spare, ducking inside to the frustrated shrieks of those chasing her.

She wove through the city, through rough-hewn dusty red chambers and smooth, metallic corridors, trying to remember where she should go. She rounded a corner-

And she was there, the shadow of a woman she had once known like life itself. Calling to her. Tempting her. She squeezed the link, activating the final code. If they got her, they would have no one else.

There was a balcony there. She struggled up onto it, and as the shadow that had once been Anna extended an offering hand to her, she jumped.

There was darkness. It was black, and cold, and very painful. Agony, even. Her body ached and throbbed and burnt in more places than she had imagined she possessed. She could not feel her left arm; her right made her glad of that small miracle. Her eyes were filled with burning white spots that floated across her vision, and her mouth was drier than the dust that covered her battered body. There was something good in this situation, she was sure, but she could not remember what it was. She was mortally injured, bleeding profusely from numerous wounds, and nearing freezing. She could hardly see where she was through the spots, but what she could make out was rugged, cold and dark red. Darker than her blood, anyway, which soaked the ground around her, although it seemed to have stopped for now. When she looked up, she saw only darkness; there didn't appear to be a down, or a way out of the cave she was in. She must be far enough inside and far enough down to escape the blast...

It came back to her in slow, agonising portions. The scream; the fall; the light, and the unbearable noise and heat and pressure. Then finally that indescribable sound, and-

She should be dead. But she wasn't...

"Delenn? Delenn, wake up. Ivanova's here to see you."

She opened her eyes, blinking, expecting the burn of white spots on her eyes. She frowned as Franklin's dark face filled her perfect vision, reflexively touching her left cheek. There was no blood; no cut at all, only smooth skin.

"Delenn?"

"Mm.." She shook her head, trying to sit up and make sense of her surroundings. "What? Where am I?"

"In MedLab." He laid a hand on her left arm; she blinked as she felt the light squeeze. "Ivanova wants to see you. I haven't told her anything so far, but..."

Delenn nodded, too distracted by the odd feeling of having been somewhere else when she obviously hadn't been. The dream had been so vivid! She had felt the dust as she inhaled it, the blood sticking to her fingers, the whine of the energy cap and slight ricochet of the PPG as she fired-

Where had she gotten that idea?

"Hey." She looked up, surprised by the intrusion. Susan Ivanova stood at the end of the bed, her long hair free and somewhat tangled, uniform rumpled. It had obviously been a long night. "I can't stay long. I thought you might like someone to talk to for a while."

"Yes." She didn't know why she asked so impulsively, only that she suddenly had to know. "You have a PPG, do you not?"

Ivanova blinked. "Uh, yeah. Got it right here." She tapped her sidearm. "Can't be too careful these days. Why?"

"May I see it?" She expected Ivanova to protest, but the other woman shrugged and unclipped the holster.

"Sure. If you want." She turned the gun in her hand, handing it over. Delenn smiled gratefully, taking it carefully and studying it. Hers was different - had been different. It had-

"There should be..." she trailed off, trying to remember what it was called. "A cap. Here." She tapped the back of the gun. Ivanova raised her eyebrows, looking a little guilty as she held up a small cylinder between two fingers.

"This what you're looking for?"

Delenn smiled, nodded. "Yes. But it was..." she shook her head. "It was different." She turned it over; it was smooth, but for a small code on the underside of the barrel. That was different. She looked up sharply. "John has a gun like this."

"Yeah. Two of them." Ivanova looked at her in concern. "Delenn, what's this all about?"

"I..." What should she say? 'I had a dream I was John'? "It's nothing. I was just curious. There were none..." She swallowed. "In his belongings. They weren't there."

"Oh." Ivanova looked more than a little uncomfortable. "Well, he probably, um... took them with him. To - To use," she corrected swiftly, not wanting to mention that place just yet. "He wouldn't have gone out without a fight, Delenn," she said gently.

"I know." She had seen the fight, or some of it at least. She was convinced of that. It had been so real, so definite, she could do nothing but believe it. Then she remembered the pain, and the belief that even beyond the agony something was good. She should have been dead...

But she hadn't been. She'd been alive; injured, freezing, nearly unconscious, but... alive. I had a dream I was John.

Alive.

"Delenn?"

She blinked, looking up through sudden tears. "Yes, Commander?"

Ivanova laid a careful hand on her arm. "You don't look well. I'll get Stephen."

"No!" Delenn quickly forced a reassuring smile. "I feel much better, Susan. Honestly. I just need to sleep for a while longer, that's all." She smiled and touched the hand on her arm gently. "Thank you for coming to see me."

"No problem." Looking a little bemused at the sudden dismissal, Ivanova turned to leave. "I'll drop by again soon, okay? You get some sleep."

"I will."

She kept the smile up long enough to be sure Ivanova was gone; then it faded into a confused frown. She had had many dreams of John's fate since he had been gone, but always she had seen his face; battered, bruised, horrifically injured, and always dead. In the rare dreams when he came back to her, he was never injured at all - so why now had she believed, even after waking, that she was alive? That he was alive? Still she was confused by the feelings, the sensations of being there. She knew, even if it were simply a dream, that she had seen Z'Ha'Dum, the homeworld of the Shadows.

But it was not unheard of, was it, for dreams to mirror reality? The Centauri placed a huge importance on dreams, even believing them to have prophetic powers - and they often did, at least among their seers. If she were Centauri, she would be halfway to Z'Ha'Dum by now...

She tried to push that thought away. No one would be willing to risk the trip, and even if they did, it would not be she who went. Franklin and Lennier would see to that. She would remain safely on the station, in MedLab, while those who believed that John was dead surveyed the barren surface of the planet for his remains.

She wiped at her face, feeling tears there, still surprised that no blood came away on her fingers. A small thing, but for some reason it convinced her above all else that what she had experienced had not been a simple dream. John was alive, or at least he had been. She owed it to him to find him.

She owed it to herself, and to their child. She would not simply accept their fate.

She would not go out without a fight.

Chapter Text

The morning seemed infinite: nothing seemed to distract Stephen from her for more than a few moments, and now that she was out of her quarters it seemed everyone had something important to say to her. She shifted restlessly under Megan's ministrations, trying not to give the impression that she was ready to leap from the bed at the first chance. She had managed to eat breakfast, which was something of a novelty and made her feel a little more confident about her rather reckless, definitely ridiculous plan. If she could eat, then she could stay well long enough to do what had to be done. She had listened when Stephen had doled out the drugs that morning; the tablets were what kept her from being sick, and there were plenty of those in the room. It wasn't a long trip to Z'Ha'Dum, in the kind of ship she planned on taking. If it had worked for John, then it would work for her. The trick would be in gaining access and getting enough of a head start before either Franklin, Lennier or Ivanova could come after her. They wanted John to be alive; she knew that. But if she were to tell them that she knew he was alive on the basis of a dream - given her condition and the number of drugs in her system, they would not be inclined to believe her.

And John did not have the time for her to convince them.

Megan flashed her a smile, looking a little less timid this morning, but still quiet. "I need to speak with Doctor Franklin," she told her charge hesitantly, as if she were asking permission; which, Delenn thought, she probably was. She smiled.

"Of course. Take as long as you need."

The nurse smiled back, slipping out of the door even as Delenn slipped out of the bed. She looked at the IV in her hand with some disgust: steeling herself, she worked the tubes out and tried to work out a way to remove it. After a moment she gave up; her clothes lay folded across a chair at the back of the room, and it took her only a moment to slip out of the medical gown and into the simple brown and green dress she often wore on the White Star. John liked it, she remembered; if fate was with them, he would see her in it again. Grabbing the medication Stephen had left beside the bed, she hid her hand as best she could and slipped out into the corridor.

Getting out of MedLab wasn't difficult; she made sure she stayed well away from the main areas, cutting through numerous small, specialised corridors until she was out of the facility and into one of the main corridors of the station. She grabbed the first transport tube she could find, making sure she kept her left hand covered with her right and gritting her teeth as she jarred the IV needle. It would need to come out, but she could do that once she was assured of her plan. Right now, she needed to get to her quarters, and from there to a docking bay. If she was in luck, her private flyer would be prepped and ready to fly, as it should usually be: if not, she would need some other way of getting off the station and onto a White Star - and getting the crew to leave as John had done. It would be a difficult task... She paused. How would John have done it? Garibaldi would know, or perhaps Ivanova, but she could hardly go to them and ask.

But perhaps she could go to John.

"Computer, change destination. Blue one, crew quarters."

As luck would have it, the tube was almost there anyway and opened only a few seconds later. Delenn knew the way to John's quarters almost instinctively, wherever she was: from here it was two rights and a left, and try not to bump into anyone who might know where she was really supposed to be.

She reached the door in record time, punching in the lock code that John had taught her. Stepping inside, it was suddenly possible to believe that he really was gone; the shelves were empty, the room stark, bare except for a number of boxes stacked against the breakfast bar. Only the knowledge that this would be one of the first places they would look for her stopped Delenn from breaking down in tears at the sight.

She went through to his bedroom, glancing around: it was as bare as the rest of the living quarters and she quickly turned back, not wanting a memory of that room like that. As she spun around, something caught her eye: a data pad that had been left out of the boxes, still sitting on a waist-high shelf. She picked it up, staring blankly at the blinking images until they suddenly made sense to her.

'Carolyn Sanderson', one image said. Bester's lover, the telepath with the Shadow implants in her brain. But it wasn't that that caught her attention.

'Anna Sheridan', the other image was titled. The identical image.

Was this John's? Had he known? She had no way to be sure, but it was a glimmer of hope at least. She looked around, wondering where they had packed away his clothing and bedroom belongings. It didn't take long, rummaging through the boxes, to find a carry sac. She dropped the medication, data pad and a few other essentials inside and headed for the door. As it swung open, something caught her eye: John's identicard, lying on the kitchen counter. She smiled and picked it up, checking the corridor before heading for the docking bay.

Getting there wasn't difficult, and as she had not mentioned her dream to anyone there was no one waiting or looking for her. With a wide-eyed and innocent smile and a firm voice, she commandeered a group of technicians to prep her flyer as she watched, scrolling through the information on the data pad, hoping to find some clue as to how she was supposed to clear a White Star of its crew.

Finally, she gave up. Her flyer was prepped and she didn't keep it waiting, barely taking time to thank the techs before boarding. Only then did she consider how she was going to get clearance to leave.

//Ship, link to Babylon 5 sensor grid.//

The flyer seemed to pause, then chirped. //Link established. Request?//

//Locate Commander Susan Ivanova.//

A momentary pause introduced a 3D representation of the station: Ivanova was in MedLab. With luck, she hadn't thought to deny Delenn's flyer clearance yet.

"C and C, this is the Minbari flyer Zhalen requesting emergency permission to depart."

"Ambassador?" It was Lieutenant Corwin's voice, she recognised after a moment. She hoped she could work past him.

"I'm not using the jumpgate, lieutenant. My destination is White Star Two."

There was a pause: Delenn held her breath, praying silently.

"Permission granted, Zhalen. You are cleared to depart."

Delenn wished he could see her smile as gratitude, although she felt guilty at deceiving him so easily. She concentrated on the thought of John, of reaching him in time, and pushed her guilt to the side.

"Acknowledged, C and C. Thank you." She all but threw the flyer into the air, hoping her sudden departure wasn't causing too many difficulties. Corwin was also likely to alert Ivanova very shortly, if she didn't get in touch with him soon herself. The sooner Delenn could get out into open space, the better.

Meanwhile, however, she had decided on her course of action. She opened a channel to White Star Twenty, in standard orbit around the station, and acting on simple arrogance and hope - 'balls', John would have called it - simply ordered the crew to depart for other ships in the fleet. By the time she reached the docking bay, there would be no shuttles or flyers but her own.

It was a credit to her leadership, and to the respect and awe in which they held her, that the ship was completely deserted before she even managed to align her flyer and activate the remote command to open the docking bay.

She wasn't surprised, on reaching the bridge, that the communications relay was calling for her attention. She knew it would be Ivanova: she also knew that Franklin would have told her, if he had not told Lennier, of her pregnancy and what he probably believed had caused her rash behaviour.

"Well, Humans are supposed to act on hunches sometimes." She settled into the captain's chair, activating her panel to begin power up of the jump engines. "I'm just trying them out." For the first time in a long while, a true smile touched her lips, and the ship seemed to agree as it powered up steadily around her.

She called up the coordinates of the Shadow homeworld; with a deep breath, she swung the ship around and activated the jump engines. The flame-orange of the jump point enveloped her, and then she was suddenly in hyperspace.

She tilted her head back against the chair; relief, trepidation and some regret filled her thoughts as she realised she had accomplished her goal: now all she had left to do was reach Z'Ha'Dum in time.

"That's all." Her bemused voice made the large chamber seem hollow; she shivered suddenly, looking around, and settled deeper into the chair. //Ship, some music.//

There was a consenting chirp. //Please state a preference.//

//Earth...// She paused, looking out at the red eddies of hyperspace. //No, no music. Rain. Make it rain.//

There was another chirp, and then the rumbling sound of thunder rolled across the bridge. Delenn leaned back, drawing herself up into the chair, and closed her eyes. //Alert me to any approaching vessels, and set an alarm to wake me in four hours. Estimated time to Z'Ha'Dum?//

//Five days three hours.//

Delenn sighed and closed her eyes. //Wake me in four hours.//

The alarm vibrated throughout the bridge: Delenn let out a quiet moan and opened her eyes, shifting position to sit upright in her chair. She had been sleeping there for four days now, alternating between resting and wandering the bridge, trying to find ways to boost the ship's speed. She had already diverted power from everything on the lower decks, and everything but life support on her own. She had food and water in the captain's office just down the corridor from the bridge: she slept in her chair, or when she felt more comfortable lying down, on the low couch provided in the office. She had taken the IV from her hand, rather amateurishly but without causing too much damage, wrapping it securely from the stores in the ship's medical bay. She had arranged as much as she could in order to be ready if John were still alive: she was not much of a medic, but she would be able to keep him alive if nothing else. She had no doubt that another ship, or ships, would already be behind her - she was counting on it. Franklin would either be chasing her himself or would have sent another trusted physician to take care of her when he finally caught her, but Delenn had no intention on being caught before she found who, or at least what, she was looking for. If he was dead...

"No." She would not think of it. John was alive - she was sure of it. She had dreamt of him again; of him calling to her, speaking her name over and over in everything from a scream to a whispered breath. She still could not see his face: it was disorienting to hear her name from her own lips, and yet to know it was John's voice that spoke so tenderly of her. Another dream had been tense, filled with agony; she had woken crying with the imagined pain, had even taken a painkilling drug to remove the residual ache that pervaded her body. She had been afraid to sleep for two days after that, spending her time meditating instead, knelt in prayer at the centre of the bridge, in front of the captain's chair with only the darkness and a lone candle for company.

Now, she had less than an hour before she reached Z'Ha'Dum, and she spent it well: preparing her flyer to reach the surface, recording a detailed account of everything she could recall from her mind about the place she saw in her dreams. She could remember little from her latest dreams... it worried her, although she knew that in all likelihood it shouldn't. After all, this entire idea was probably ludicrous - had it not been for the recurrence of the dreams, she would likely have given in to the repeated hail from Babylon 5 and turned back by now.

But then she dreamt, and urged the ship on faster.

She loaded what few supplies she was taking with her into the flyer; although it could, at maximum, carry up to three people, she had refitted it as best she could in the time she had and there was now space enough - she hoped - for a medical kit and PPG rifle to be stored while still leaving room for John... in whatever state he might be. Her mind was racing as she rechecked for the third time and then swung into the pilots seat. Despite her dreams, she still had little idea of what she would find on the Shadow world; even more frighteningly, of what she would find when she reached John, if she reached him. To come all this way, and fail...

"Stop it," she admonished herself. She had been less and less confident about this the nearer she came to Z'Ha'Dum. In a few more days, perhaps even the time it would take to find him, John would have been missing for three full weeks. Even if he had survived the jump she was sure he had made, how could he have survived on a barren, hostile planet for that long? He would have no food, no water: Minbari could fast if they had to, but John was Human. How did she expect him to have survived such an ordeal?

She closed her eyes, pushing such thoughts from her mind. She had no way of knowing if the planet, or the Shadows remaining there, were influencing her thoughts, but she made the assumption they were and fixed her mind on John's image, on the thought of having him back with her, having him close to her again. It was all that sustained her now, all she thought of. She would know, one way or the other, what had happened to him. She needed that much. The universe owed her that much.

There was a chirp and an alarm from outside the small craft: Delenn activated her communications relay and patched it into the White Star, acknowledging the warning and feeling the slight shift as the ship almost literally jumped out into normal space. She had programmed it to take a high orbit, watching the automatic systems through her console until she was satisfied that she was ready for launch. Both ships acknowledged her request with a string of beeps and chirps: she couldn't help smiling at the almost childlike way the flyer reacted as she lifted it from the hanger and spun around, heading for the open bay doors. Then she was outside, hovering in high orbit above the homeworld of the Shadows.

A sudden wave of icy cold washed over her: she shuddered, her grip tightening on the edge of the console in front of her. What was she doing? This was madness. John was dead. Everyone believed it except her, and coming here would only prove it to her.

But at least I will have proof! She fought against the inexorable tide of cold, fearful doubt that invaded the flyer, making it seem to close in around her. At least if he is dead, I will have his body and not you!

There was a momentary lapse in the cold, dark sensation, and for a short instant she felt warm again. She recognised it now, what it was: the Shadows, trying to trick her. But if they wanted her to believe John was dead, although she knew it was a likely truth, then perhaps it wasn't true. They knew she had a chance, perhaps more than a chance, of rescuing him. They knew they would not have him for as long as Delenn could protect him. She smiled.

"You do not have him," she said slowly to the empty space around her. "You do not have him now, and you have never had him. And you never will." She tapped in her access code for the White Star. "Authorisation: Delenn one five nine. Password: 'faith manages'." Her smile grew wider, and with a newfound confidence she swung the Zhalen toward the planet, searching for the chasm she had seen so clearly in her dream. She had faith that he was alive and that even if he was dead, the Shadows had never touched him, never made him one of their own.

"I will find him." She was sure they were still listening, even if they did nothing now to affect her. "I will succeed where you have failed, because I have faith and you do not. You think that because you are more powerful, and more ruthless, and more persuasive, that you will always win. But you're wrong." The scanner chirped what sounded to Delenn like an almost happy note; she glanced at it and smiled confidently, changing course. "You're nothing but bullies. You frighten others, prey on their doubts and their fears to turn them against each other. You hide in darkness, thinking it makes you strong." She glanced at her readouts, outwardly nonchalant even as she poured out her anger and disdain on the invisible presence around her. "But darkness is nothing: only the absence of light, just as fear and doubt is the absence of faith." She turned the flyer down toward the ruined city. "I have faith. I have faced darkness many times, and I am not afraid of it. Or of you."

Her words appeared to have had the desired effect: the scream that filled her ears came not so much from in front or behind as from all around her, and she could almost feel the combined fury of the remaining Shadows that she would dismiss them in such a manner. Another wave of cold blackness seemed to envelope the city before her, leaving her no choice but to go through it: taking a deep breath, she tilted the flyer almost vertical and headed in.

She had thought it was cold before: now she could barely feel, her fingers numbed by the intensity of the cold. Her bandaged hand throbbed, but it was the only heat she knew in that moment. Her breath condensed before her: she tried to slow it down, not wanting to loose too much body heat and slowed her descent, transferring power to her life support systems. It would do no good to reach John, only to be in no condition to help him herself.

"I will reach him," she almost snarled at the blackness around her. "You will not stop me. I will reach him, or I will die, and then you will never have either of us."

There was no reply, but she could tell somehow that they were amused by her words. Of course, they did not want her, or they would have come for her on Babylon 5 instead of John. She was unimportant to them: her death would ensure that he would never be rescued, and he would either die or be captured by them. Either way, the Shadows would win the battle, not just here and now but for a thousand years.

"No." She said it simply, with no hint of anger; only confidence. "That will not happen." The darkness still surrounded her, the cold penetrating her body completely, but she would not give way. Not now, so close.

The Shadows redoubled their attack, and she felt the cold begin to seize control of her body.

::Quickly::

She blinked, surprised by the sudden voice in her head, valiantly trying to hold her course.

::Come now::

Delenn frowned: whether or not it was her imagination, she could see a point of light ahead in the darkness. She centred on it, holding her course to try and reach it, almost stretching out her mind to it...

::Here::

The voice was almost musical: her eyes widened in amazement as she felt the palpable anger around her, the retreat from the being of light that floated on silent wings and now guided her ship. "Kosh?!"

::He must be saved:: It was possibly the most unambiguous thing a Vorlon had ever said, and it filled her with a sudden joy.

"He's alive?"

::Alive, but not living:: Kosh had grown more direct since she had last spoken with him, Delenn noticed with a wry smile, but not much.

"What does that mean?"

There was no reply; she looked out of the vessel's small window and saw why. The cold and darkness no longer attacked her and her ship - instead it centred on Kosh, enveloping him in darkness like a blanket only to be pushed back by the light. It seemed to pull at him, stabbing at his wings, ripping angrily at him - and then just as she wanted to scream at them to leave him alone and take her, the darkness was gone and they were inside the abyss.

It took Delenn a moment to realise, now the cold was gone, that she was no longer piloting her flyer. She tried to see Kosh again through the window, but he was out of her view. She spoke anyway.

"Are you taking me to him?"

::Yes::

There was a pause; she looked at the readouts as they descended, staring in amazement and then horror. John could never have survived a fall this long!

"So far," she murmured softly. She wasn't expecting an answer, but it came anyway.

::Yes:: He seemed to know what he was doing, and she tried to relax. After all, he was guiding her now: it made sense that he could have guided John in the same way.

::Yes::

Delenn smiled, feeling a little better at the Vorlon's ambiguous nature. It was something she had always been familiar with; she did not trust all Vorlons, by any means, but she trusted Kosh. Trusted him enough to know he would keep John safe, anyway.

A thought suddenly hit her, and she frowned. "You called me here. You put John in my dreams to bring me here."

::The oracle sees only the angel, not the man::

She had to struggle not to laugh. That he was still capable of completely maddening sentences that made no sense was somehow immensely comforting to her; as was the sudden sensation of slowing down, and then after a moment the soft thud as ground and craft connected.

She eyed the escape hatch suspiciously, wondering if it were safe outside. Would there be atmosphere here? She had come through the Shadow cloud, yes, but no other kind of passageway. What if it were a vacuum outside?

Then John would be dead, she reminded herself with some embarrassment. She could almost feel the Vorlon's impatience - something she hadn't thought it possible for them to possess - and snatched only her meagre medical supplies before opening the hatch.

The light that greeted her was all but blinding. She blinked, looking quickly away from Kosh to allow her eyes to adjust slowly. It was then, after almost six days, that she finally recognised that indescribable sound from her dream - the softness of wings that flowed more than flapped in the thin darkness.

"You rescued him." For the first time, she spoke directly to the Vorlon floating before her. She had seen him in this state before, but never...

"'Only the angel, not the man'." She looked up at him, wide-eyed, as his words suddenly made sense. She was wrong - she had never seen this form before. "It wasn't John in my dreams... it was you. You were inside him." Her voice, to her ears, sounded somewhat calmer than she'd expected. "You didn't die on Babylon Five. You were there all the time, inside John. And when he fell..." her mind had already worked through the rest. She looked up again, almost shyly, remembering the first time she had seen him outside of his encounter suit, years before. Of course, now he had no suit to hide inside, but...

"Is this how the Humans see you?"

Kosh only smiled. Never, in all the time she had seen him, had she known him to smile in his Minbari form; unable to not do so, she smiled back at him. He held out a silent hand to her: she tried to ignore the fact that her own was trembling as she placed it in his. Only John and Lyta, to her knowledge, had ever truly touched a Vorlon.

::And now they are three::

She hadn't thought it possible for a Vorlon to have a sense of humour, either: she winced ruefully as she... felt... Kosh's reaction to that assumption. For whatever reason, he seemed to prefer this Human image to any other he might project, and certainly to the Minbari deity -

It struck her that he didn't represent Valeria - he was Valeria. The idea troubled her for a moment; a calming influence prevailed over her mixed emotions and she realised it was Kosh, communicating with her in that same way as the Shadow cloud had done. Without words or even images, his mind just seemed to fit to hers, replying to her thoughts even as she had them. Was this how Lyta felt when she worked for him? Was this how John had felt when the Vorlon had carried him, first to the Gardens and now to safety in the bowels of Z'Ha'Dum?

::Quickly:: He spoke aloud again, or what passed for aloud even if she didn't see his lips move, as they passed into a chamber that seemed hewn from the rock - and hurriedly at that. The entrance was narrow, with enough room for Delenn to pass inside but leaving Kosh on the other side of the passage, his angelic form blocking the entrance completely.

Delenn turned back from the darkness inside, realising that that was what was intended here. The chamber wasn't large; perhaps two meters in each direction with enough room to stand straight, but nothing more, and it was dark as she stood in front of the door, keeping Kosh's glowing form from illuminating the tiny cavern. She stepped cautiously to one side, and the Human angel guarding the entrance flooded the room with light. Delenn gasped, unable to help her soft cry of fear.

Sheridan lay on the cold stone, huddled against the back wall of the chamber, still wearing the uniform in which he had left the station almost a month ago. It was scratched and torn in any number of places, and what little she could see of his face and body suggested he was much the same.

"John?" Unable somehow to really believe it now that she could see it, she almost fell to his side, desperately seeking a pulse at his wrist, the soft sound of breath that would prove to her that her faith had not been for nothing. She waited, one hand over his heart, the other clasping his wrist, despair and anger filling her.

"You told me he was alive!" She spun and ran at Kosh, not caring in that moment if he were a Vorlon or not. "You brought me here to save him! You said that he had to be saved, that he was alive!" Tears streaked down her face, full of anger and regret and loss. "Kosh! Answer me, damn you!"

It was the first time she had ever spoken so... so Humanly without thinking, and it was a fairly simple curse, so she supposed it was the emotion behind it that got his attention. She hoped so.

::He is alive::

"He's dead!" She poured all her fear into those words, all her anger. "He isn't breathing, his heart is not beating. He is dead, Kosh, do you know what that means? Can you even contemplate what it is? You may have survived, but John is dead."

::Alive, but not of the living:: His voice was filled with an overwhelming confidence; so much so that she turned back to Sheridan, taking a tentative step to his side.

"What does that mean?" She turned her tearful confusion back on Kosh. "What do you want me to do? I can't revive him. I'm not trained to-"

::Give::

Delenn frowned helplessly as he turned his back on her again, trying hopelessly to still her tears at seeing John lying that way. Give? What did that mean?

She laid a gentle hand on John's shoulder, meeting no resistance as she turned him onto his back. Looking down at him, he looked so peaceful that she felt sobs well in her throat. He looked as if he were asleep, an image fixed so firmly in her mind that she knew she would never forget it. There was no trace of blue in his lips; his skin not pallid in death but warm, although so very pale. Blood had not long clotted in the gashes and cuts on his face; but still he didn't breathe, and his heart refused to beat.

A sob ripped from her throat, and she couldn't force it down again; one by one they choked her until she was kneeling over his living yet lifeless body, sobbing helplessly, her tears falling on his dust-stained uniform.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she touched his face, gently wiping away what dirt and dried blood she could. "I'm so sorry, John. I wasn't in time..." She closed her eyes, taking his hand in both of hers. If this was to be his deathbed, then she would at least say goodbye properly. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I never wanted to lose you..." Another sob filled her throat: she lifted his hand to her face, tears spilling onto his pale skin.

"I love you, John. Always." She swallowed hard; her eyes squeezed shut to stop the tears, she didn't notice his eyelids flutter. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Anna... about everything..." She pressed his hand to her cheek, kissing his dusty palm; not noticing, through her tears, the sudden, slow rise and fall of his chest. "I'm sorry I didn't give you the choice, or-" she choked on the final agony. "Or the chance to see your child."

"...what..."

Her eyes flew open, but she saw nothing through the tears. That mattered very little, however, as a weak, dusty but somehow tender caress brushed them away.

"J-John?"

"I think so..." He took in another breath, and it rattled hard in his chest. "Barely." He turned his head to look at her and before she could protest, pulled her suddenly those few inches down to him, into a ravenous and not at all tender kiss. Not that she would have attempted to protest, she realised, trying only to keep her balance. The kiss lasted longer than she could remember, and it resolved a number of things that quite likely would have taken hours had they spoken of it. Right now, however, speaking was hardly a priority.

Sheridan, however, seemed suddenly to feel differently: he pulled back out of the kiss, struggling to back up against the wall, a terrible expression on his face. Delenn sat back, pushing herself away from the look in his eyes, feeling the tears well up again. Then he spoke, quietly, so gently that she had to force down the memories again at that tone.

"Delenn?" He sounded confused; he stared at her, and the horror on his face melted into amazement and relief. "Delenn... what are you doing here?"

"I-" She couldn't find the words, frightened by the expression that was now gone from his face. He frowned slightly, trying to reach for her, but he could barely move more than a few inches before the pain called an abrupt halt to his movements. She went immediately to his side, reaching out to steady him, but her touch was hesitant: he frowned slightly.

"What?"

She shook her head, trying to loosen the collar of his uniform: he took hold of her hand and she winced as he gripped it too firmly. Only then did he notice the bandage, looking up at her in concern.

"What happened?" He gently touched her face. "Delenn? What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, but only for a moment before turning her head away, her voice quiet. "Why did you look at me that way?"

He frowned. "What way?"

"Just now. You looked at me... as if you were afraid of me." A single, lonely tear ran down her cheek. "As if you hated me."

"What?" He sounded even more confused now. "Delenn, I could never hate you. I..." He seemed to struggle to find words: suddenly realisation seemed to arrive in his mind and he gently squeezed her fingers, taking care to stay away from the bandage. "Just now... I thought you were Anna." His voice told her what he meant by that. "The last thing I remember is her... holding out her hand to me, and then... darkness. I thought for a minute I didn't get away." He reached for her again, pleading for her touch. "Please, Delenn. I love you."

She took a deep breath and let it out again, unable to contain the uncertain smile that touched her lips and only just holding back tears of joy. "I didn't think I would hear you say that."

He frowned, looking surprised. "Didn't you get my message?"

Delenn smiled. "I wanted to hear it in person." Tears filled her eyes, a joy and relief she couldn't hold back any longer as she put her arms around him and held him close. "John... I love you."

"I know." He kissed her again, softly, wincing. She looked at him in concern, reaching behind her in the small cavern for the few medical supplies she had managed to bring with her.

"You have to get out of here. It's not safe." He tried to hold onto her hand as she moved away, but as the pain of living began to take hold now his fingers were too weak to grasp hers. "Delenn, listen to me. You have to - you have to go."

"I am leaving, but not without you." She saw him about to protest and for the first time, stared at him in a way that could almost be described as angry. "You have no idea what I have gone through to find you, John Sheridan. I am not about to turn around and go home alone just because you think there is the possibility that I am in danger." She pulled out an injector from her makeshift medkit and set it to the highest dose she dared use. "This should take away the pain for a little while. At least, until we can reach the ship." He raised his eyebrows - well, one of them. She shrugged, trying not to make too much of it. "I... borrowed a White Star."

"Oh." He grinned lopsidedly. "Well, at least you might get yours back in one piece."

Delenn laughed softly, pressing the injector to his arm. "You can tell me everything, later."

He nodded, watching her inject the painkiller directly into his system. "You know, there is something else you could do to take the pain away." She looked up, saw his face and smiled: with a gentle caress she took his face in her hands and kissed him, warmly and slowly, the way she been longing to ever since she had seen his eyes open to look up at her

"Mmm..." He smiled into her eyes. "Do that again, I could probably fly out of here."

"Later," she promised him. He grinned.

"Now there's an incentive if ever I heard one. Let's go." He allowed her to support him, she noticed with some trepidation, grunting in pain as he stood, and it only reinforced how badly he was hurt that he didn't even attempt to walk on his own. There was room for them both to leave the tiny chamber together if they kept close; Delenn's hand stayed on his arm, as much to reassure herself of his presence as to support his faltering steps.

If Sheridan was surprised to see Kosh awaiting them at the entrance to the chamber, he made nothing of it; if anything the Vorlon's presence seemed to bolster his reserves, pushing him on. Still, by the time they reached the flyer Delenn could easily see his exhaustion.

"John." She touched his hand to get his attention, aware that he was ready to collapse with the simple effort of standing upright. "It's all right now. We will be back on the White Star soon."

He nodded tiredly, trying to throw off the fatigue for just a few more moments. Delenn wasn't even sure he saw the flyer at all, only that he followed her guiding hands and blindly moved into the seat behind her own. She didn't need to turn around to sense that his eyes were already closed. The painkiller she had given him was powerful, but he needed proper medical care - something she prayed was less than five days away.

She pulled the hatch shut and checked it; glancing briefly outside, she saw Kosh and smiled, saying a quiet thank you under her breath, hoping she wouldn't wake John. It didn't matter how softly she spoke, however; that enigmatic but somehow peaceful smile was answer enough for her gratitude. With no further words, perhaps feeling them unnecessary, the Vorlon started up out of the abyss. Delenn took a deep breath, called up the flight display and checked her reverse course. Above her, she could see the Shadow cloud; it seemed to be closing in on her, reaching for her.

"No." She kept her voice low, but there was no less conviction than before. "Not now. You will not have either of us." She felt the pervasive cold again as they began the ascent: she ignored it, forcing her attention on her screens, but Sheridan had no such luxury. The cold seeping into his numerous injuries, he let out a quiet groan and shifted restlessly in his seat. Delenn began to pray under her breath; this was what they had waited for, why they had not come down to Sheridan themselves. They waited, knowing he would not withstand their final assault on his all-too-frail body, knowing he would soon be theirs or die in the attempt.

What they didn't know, however, was that Delenn had been right in her tirade. That she had faith.

And that she also had a guardian angel.

The Vorlon, in Human form but seeming to grow, unfolding, surrounded the tiny vessel; then the angelic face disappeared and she saw his true form for one, single instant as a huge curl of pure light grasped her flyer and he almost bit - there was no other word for it - a hole through the deathly cloud. It stabbed at him, clawing with invisible talons, and she heard the screams of triumph echo as Kosh made no move to defend himself from the onslaught. Instead he carried the flyer, pushed it beyond the reach of the cloud, before snaking long, graceful tentacles back to snap at the missiles and claws that attacked his true form.

::Go. Go now!::

"Kosh!" She didn't care right now if she did wake John: he would want to see this as well. "Kosh?!"

::Go!:: There was an urgency about the voice that made her suddenly fearful for him. He was Vorlon, but he was still a friend, perhaps the only one of his kind she would ever have. She couldn't leave him to die, here, alone.

::Now:: The tinkling of bells echoed in her head. Was it her fear, or was it fainter now? ::He must be saved. Go!::

Whether she pulled through her concern for him and threw on all the reverse thrusters, or whether the one and only altruistic Vorlon made a last-ditch attempt to safeguard the craft and its occupants, she did not quite know. All she knew was that she was suddenly coming up on the White Star at such speed that she had no choice but to pull around and orbit the ship in order to come up on the bay doors correctly. As she swung the craft into the shadow of their ship, albeit a little awkwardly as she tried to correct for speed, there was a sudden flash of white light from the planet below. She shielded her eyes with one hand, turning away, but as luck would have it the flyer was the in the shade of the White Star and was shielded from what could only have been an explosion.

Delenn forced down her pain and anger at the sudden, irrevocable understanding that Kosh was gone. That they had killed him, just as they had tried to kill her and the man she loved. Anger outweighed pain at those thoughts, and only the knowledge that John was relying on her stopped her from turning back to return the attack. Instead she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, patching her comm system back into that of the larger ship to open the bay.

"Authorisation Delenn one five nine. Password..." She glanced back at Sheridan, unable and unwilling to conceal the smile that the sight of his face brought to her lips. "'Faith manages'."

Chapter Text

Sheridan awoke slowly; the dim light in the room warm on his eyelids, he blinked and opened his eyes carefully. His mind was still fuzzy, a jumble of images and voices: Justin, Morden, Anna... Delenn. Delenn?

"Delenn?"

"Hush." Her voice was quiet, and close. He tried to sit up: pain lanced through his head and arms, and his chest felt as if it were on fire. A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder, pushing him back down, and he didn't need to look to know that touch.

"Delenn?"

"Yes." She sounded as if she were smiling, touching his lips with a finger. "Quiet now." He twisted his head as far as possible, following her voice, trying to see her, to reassure himself that it was really her. Then she stepped into his line of sight, a vision of beauty even if her skin was pale and her eyes tired. He smiled up at her, blinking back the hazy light - candlelight, he realised, looking away from the flickering flames at the end of the bed. Echoes of the light danced in front of his eyes; he winced and blinked.

"Keep still," Delenn admonished softly. He managed a slightly jaunty grin, not really surprised that it was hugely painful.

"Guess I survived, then." There was no reply; she turned away, working on something that her body obscured from view. He frowned, reaching out a stiff hand to her. "Delenn?"

"This is not a joking matter, John." She turned back to him, holding a soft cloth that she lifted expertly to his forehead, wiping away the dried blood and dust. He winced, reaching for her hand, wondering why she didn't look him in the eyes.

"Delenn?"

She looked down, holding the cloth in her folded hands: after a moment she took a deep breath and met his concerned gaze. There were tears in her eyes.

He worked his swollen hand into her bandaged one, not needing to speak to tell her what he wanted to say. She smiled, a little sadly, and a solitary tear escaped her control to travel down her pale cheek. He reached across with his other hand, unable to help wincing at the pain of movement, and halted its glistening path with a gentle fingertip. He smiled gently and tenderly caressed her cheek, pressing his palm to her warm skin. Her other hand came tentatively up to cover his; she closed her eyes, pushing back the tears, turning her face into his palm.

"I thought I'd lost you." Her voice was thick with emotion, so much that he could hardly make out her words. He didn't reply; there was nothing he could think of to take away the pain of what he had done to her. Another tear fell and he wiped it away, wanting more than anything to keep her from crying for him.

"I'm sorry, Delenn," he said softly. "I hurt you, I know." He tried to sit up, managing admirably for his injuries: it was desperately painful to move, but not as much as it was to watch her cry. "That wasn't what I wanted."

"What did you want?" She refused to let the tears fall, but they filled her voice and his heart ached for the pain he'd caused her. She looked at him with a quietly hurt expression, her voice shaking. "What was it that you wanted from this?"

He looked up at her, pouring all his love for her into the only answer he had.

"You."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears: he pulled her close to him, and after a moment she wrapped tentative arms around his shoulders, hiding her tears in his dusty hair.

"I love you, Delenn. All I wanted was to be with you." He held onto her, the warmth of her body assuaging the aching pain of his injuries, needing only to know that she was there, real, in his arms. "I didn't want to leave you."

"I know." He no longer heard the stifled tears; whether because they had escaped her control or she had pushed them back, he didn't know, but her voice was clearer now. "I didn't mean to mislead you," she said softly. He heard the pain and trepidation in her voice, pulling back to look up at her.

"Don't, Delenn. Not now."

She shook her head, looking away, taking a deep breath to cover her hesitation and rushing on. "Everything you said was true... I knew Anna might be alive, I knew she might be working for the Shadows and I hid it from you. I should have trusted you, I should have told you-"

"Delenn." He shook his head slowly, trying to quiet her, but she seemed unable to stop the words from escaping.

"I should have told you everything from the beginning, but I was afraid of what might happen... what it would do to you if you knew. What it would do to us." She stared into the dying candlelight, shame filling her voice. "I should have had more faith in you. I should have loved you less and trusted you more-"

"I don't want that." He took her hand and pulled her down onto the bed beside him, holding her gaze with his. "Delenn, listen to me. I won't deny that I was angry, or hurt by what happened. I was. I was angry at you, at Kosh, at the Shadows, at the universe for making me the one to make that decision. I didn't want that knowledge, those choices. Fight or surrender, life or death... you or Anna." He smiled ruefully. "It was easier to be angry at you than to tell you the truth, but when I walked out of that room... that was the hardest thing I've ever done." He touched her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes. "I did this for you, Delenn. I do everything for you. Sometimes you're the only reason I have to keep going, do you know that?" He saw from her expression that she didn't. "I would have died for you down there, Delenn. I would have given my life for you without a second thought, and I still would. If I had to, if it meant you were safe." He smiled tenderly, tracing gentle fingertips over her face. "Could I love you that much, and not forgive?"

There was a long silence: and then, because she could think of no other reply, she leaned close and kissed him, and there was an even longer silence before she drew back to look into his eyes.

"You know," she told him slowly, firmly, "that I would never ask that of you."

"You don't have to," he told her gently. Seeing the pain that seemed to bring her, he smiled reassuringly. "I don't want to die, Delenn. I don't want to leave you again." He held her to him, albeit gingerly as his injuries reasserted their presence. "I can't keep myself from wanting to protect you. You'll have to forgive me for that."

"I would forgive you anything," she said softly, and he believed it completely.

"Then you know how I feel." He smiled at her surprised and somewhat confused features. "I forgive you, Delenn, for everything you think I should... I always will, even apart from the fact that you saved my life down there." He frowned suddenly. "You still haven't told me how you knew."

"I-" She looked up at him, obviously judging how much to tell him. She seemed to realise she was doing so, looking repentant and slightly hesitant as she answered. "I saw you in a dream."

He laughed in amazement. "A dream? You came out here and risked your life on a dream?"

"I knew you were still alive. I do not know how... or I didn't, until I came here."

He frowned, intrigued. "How?"

"Kosh," she answered quietly, her voice strangely subdued. He raised his eyebrows, somewhat surprised that the Vorlon's influence might reach so far.

"He - called you here? All the way from Babylon 5?"

"I think so."

Sheridan paused then, his eyes suddenly sorrowful as he noted what she had already seen. "Kosh - is he -"

She nodded silently, hearing him curse under his breath as he tilted his head forward, shaking it slowly in remorse. "Damn it, Delenn..."

"He saved you. He saved both of us, in the end." She looked down, her voice quiet in mourning for a moment. "I think he knew that he would not return from here. It would have been a miracle..."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed and went silent for a long few minutes; she almost jumped as he gently touched her hand. "That painful?"

She looked surprised for a moment, meeting his eyes: that tender smile she had missed so much was back, gazing at her, and she had to pull herself away to grasp what he was saying.

"Not now." He seemed about to press the issue and she put on a firmer tone, laying the bandaged hand on his shoulder and easing his tension. "It will heal. It doesn't matter now. What matters is that you are alive, and we will be home soon. Together." Her fingers brushed his face, and her frown deepened as she reached the bloody gash under his left eye. "You should lie down and rest, John. You are hurt, and I have no way to tell how badly."
He smiled at her concern, about to object, but winced as she gently explored the edges of that deep cut. Delenn stood up, reaching for the soft cloth she had discarded earlier, and ignoring his protests guided him back onto the bed.

"Relax, John." She smiled tenderly, seating herself carefully beside him and leaning over to clean the wound. He winced again, sucking in a breath as blood came away on the damp cloth. "I'm sorry," Delenn murmured softly. He smiled, although it was painful as she continued to dab at the cut.

"It's not your fault." He curled his fingers around hers, halting her ministrations for a moment. "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have here." He grinned a little ruefully. "Except maybe a medical staff. Or a crew."

"Perhaps both would be useful," she agreed with a smile. He smiled back as she slipped her hand out of his, allowing her to continue her attentions and trying not to show his discomfort, knowing she was afraid to hurt him even as she tried to take away the pain. He didn't let on to her that he knew he should never have moved, or that he was sure at least some of his injuries were more serious than she realised. Delenn had a large measure of common sense, but no real medical training - certainly there was no way she could set his broken right arm, or heal what were undoubtedly fractured ribs and the long, ragged gashes that stretched across his left thigh. The best she could hope for would be to dress the numerous cuts and bruises that decorated his body; proof, if he had no other, of what he had been through to be with her again.

"John?" He looked up, realising she had been speaking to him although he had no recollection of her words. She smiled in understanding, carefully dressing the clean wound as best she could. "You should rest now. Rest," she insisted as he opened his mouth to protest. "I will be here." She slipped her hand comfortably into his and he smiled with a silent nod. He was surprised, given how long he must have slept already, at how tired he felt; no sooner had he closed his eyes than he felt his grip loosening on her hand, the warm darkness of sleep filling his mind even as the sound of rain filled the softly lit chamber.

He woke for the second time in a hazy stupor, and it took a moment to realise she must have given him another dose of painkillers; shaking his head to clear it, he looked down at himself. At some point that he didn't remember, Delenn had removed his uniform and dressed him in a simple, loose Minbari robe that hide most of the evidence of his many injuries. Thinking of her made him frown, becoming aware suddenly of her absence. He forced himself up from the bed; she was nowhere in sight and his frown deepened. "Delenn?"

There was no reply; with a grunt of pain he stood up, careful not to put too much weight on his now-stiff leg and holding his right arm against his chest, fighting to ignore his protesting ribs.

"Delenn? Where are you?" He sighed, managing only a few steps before he fell awkwardly against another bed. She was probably nowhere nearby: on the bridge, most likely. He sighed, feeling the tight, swollen muscles on the left side of his face, trying valiantly to remember what vestiges of Minbari he knew to try and locate her.

He gave up with a tired curse, leaning up against the bed and calling her name again. This time he heard a muffled sound from a side room, turning to see a half-open door. "Delenn? What-"

She was kneeling on the floor, looking about as sick as he had ever seen anyone, and the evidence was clear that whatever it was had been going on for a good while. "Delenn!" Concern flooded his mind and he ran - well, stumbled - to her side, dropping awkwardly to the floor. "Delenn, what's wrong?"

She made no reply, unable to form any sound but for a ragged cough before she was violently sick again. He winced at the harsh sound, gently holding back her hair as he struggled to kneel beside her. The pain, thanks to his would-be nurse, was now only a dull, heavy ache over a blessed numbness and he managed the contortion without too much effort although he was sure he did some more damage. She glanced at him briefly, and he saw gratitude in her eyes as he wrapped his good arm around her shoulders.

"Delenn, what's wrong? What is it?"

"I-" She broke off as a racking cough shook her, and he could see how much effort it cost her not to be sick again. Her voice was quiet and deceptively calm. "I do not think... this is a good time," she murmured under her breath, as if afraid she might awaken the cough again. Before she could say anything else, however, her control slipped momentarily and Sheridan winced at the painful spasms that forced their way through her body, guiding her to him as she collapsed in exhaustion. He held her tenderly, stroking her hair as her laboured breathing reverberated through the small room. It was a long time until she seemed relaxed enough to attempt to move; with a quiet moan she opened her eyes, taking in a deep and hopefully cleansing breath. She seemed to remember then his own condition, struggling to sit up.

"Shh, shh." He held her to him, ignoring the throbbing ache in his arm and chest. "Take it easy. You sound like you're having a rough time."

"That is putting it mildly," she muttered from behind another sudden cough. He smiled wryly, but the concern wasn't far behind.

"How long has this been going on?"

She winced, shifting her weight in his arms. "Too long, it seems."

"Just once is too long. What's wrong?" He brushed her hair back, meeting her eyes. She was pale, her expression one of exhaustion and almost resignation. "You're not ill, are you?"

"No." She smiled ruefully up at him. "Not in the way you mean it."

"Not..." A memory, hazy and indistinct, surfaced on the edge of his consciousness. He stared at her, sure for a moment that he was imagining it until he looked into her eyes. "You're pregnant?"

"I think that is the word." She winced and coughed harshly again. "Stephen gave me some medication, but..." She took a deep breath, forcing down the urge to vomit again. Sheridan hugged her protectively, cradling her to his side with a foolish grin on his face. Delenn was pregnant, carrying his child. His child!

She was also, however, lying prone in his arms having just spent the past God-knew-how-long throwing up the contents of her stomach, and by the look of things there wasn't much left. He cursed inwardly at the situation, able only to keep her from collapsing to the floor rather than help the way he should be able to. Delenn, however, seemed to sense his frustration and smiled, reaching up to brush a light caress across his face.

"I will be fine," she assured him, sounding at least a little confident. "It will pass soon enough. It always does."

"'Always'?" He frowned. "How far along are you?" She looked confused and he smiled at that familiar expression. "How long have you been sick?"

She winced. "Nearly three weeks now."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Three weeks? How long was I out down there?"

Delenn smiled ruefully. "Nearly three weeks." She managed to look amused. "Surely that should not be difficult to work out."

He grinned. "I guess not." She was smiling at him now; he kissed her gently on the forehead, toying with a strand of long, dark hair. "I love you, Delenn," he told her impulsively, watching her smile brighten and a sparkle appear in her eyes. "Have I told you that today?"

"No." She smiled at his shocked expression. "You have been asleep for over twenty-six hours. You needed to rest," she reminded him firmly.

"So do you," he retorted. Delenn sighed.

"I knew you would be like this." At his wounded features she relented somewhat, smiling reassuringly. "I'm fine, John. It is just... tiring, that's all." She took a steadying breath before attempting to rise from the floor. "I didn't think we would be alone for so long," she admitted after a moment. "I thought, when they discovered what I had done, that someone would come after me."

Sheridan laughed suddenly: she frowned, looking confused, and he shook his head despairingly. "It figures. Just when neither of us is in any condition to use it constructively, we finally get some time alone."

Delenn smiled and blushed, knowing full well what kind of behaviour he was referring to. "We have already used such time 'constructively'," she reminded him with a somewhat amused smile, laying one hand lightly on her abdomen even as she reached for a glass of water that awaited her on the table. She took a grateful sip, and another, finishing the glass before she turned to look down at him, still watching her from the floor. He grinned up at her, grasping her offered hand and glad that - even now - she was stronger than she appeared, or he would have spent the rest of the journey on the floor. He stood up awkwardly, half-pushing, half-sliding up the wall as Delenn supported him on the other side. He tried to walk alone, taking only three steps before his injured and probably infected leg gave way and he stumbled against the wall again. Delenn was immediately at his side, her small, strong hands on his arm and shoulders supporting his weakened limbs and guiding him back to bed. He went without protest - wisely, it turned out, when he saw the determined worry on Delenn's face. He smiled up at her as he lay down, taking her hand in his.

"I'll be okay, Delenn," he promised her, putting all the confidence he could into that assurance. "The painkillers are working," he added gratefully, trying to wipe that concern from her features. "How far are we from the station?"

Delenn smiled and sat down carefully beside him, seeming as unwilling as he was to remove her hand from his. "Two and a half days, at least." She cautiously touched the dressing on his cheek, shaking her head uneasily. "You need medical attention, John. What I can do..."

"What you can do for me is more than any doctor I know." He smiled and took her hand, pressing her fingertips to his lips. "They can fix me up later. Right now, having you here is enough. Being alone with you is enough." She smiled despite herself, and he lightly squeezed her fingertips. "You know I love you, Delenn, more than anything. You're all I need right now." He reached up and pulled her down to him, and before she could protest she was lying at his side, held firmly in the crook of his good arm. He was surprised at how little discomfort her weight caused. Luckily the bed was wider than those ordinary Minbari contraptions, having the added advantage of being flat, and there was room enough for Delenn to fit into his side without crushing his injuries.

"John," she started: he put a finger to her lips, silencing her.

"Delenn, I'll be the first one to admit that I'm not in any shape to do what I would dearly love to do with you right now," he smiled as she blushed slightly, "but there is no way in hell I'm spending another two days alone with you without being this close."

"Two and a half days," she corrected with a smile. He grinned, running his fingers lightly over her back.

"I'm glad to see we're on the same wavelength here."

"I missed you," she confessed quietly. He glanced down at her, and she met his concerned gaze with her own. "You were gone for nearly three weeks. Almost everyone thought..." She shook her head suddenly and huddled closer to him, wrapping careful arms around his neck. "They believe you died at Z'Ha'Dum, and by now they probably think the same of me. I know that there are those who had... concerns... about my state of mind."

He couldn't help smiling at the idea. It was, after all, ridiculous even if it had been his salvation. "You mean the whole dreaming I was alive part?"

Delenn shifted restlessly. "I did not... tell them... that part." She looked down, toying with his robe, aware that he was now staring at her. "I knew what they would say, and it would have taken too long to convince them. I barely reached you in time," she reminded him in a quiet voice. "I'm afraid I will have some explaining to do when we reach the station."

He couldn't help it: he started to laugh. Delenn looked up at him, clearly worried, but the amusement in his eyes convinced her there was nothing wrong. It was as if, finally, he had realised the momentous events that had occurred around him and the fact that not only was he still alive, but the universe was still in one piece around him. It was an amazing thing, even if he had no idea how long it would last. He looked down at Delenn; seeing her beautiful face looking up at him, he suddenly knew what he had to say to her - what was most important and could not wait one second longer. "Delenn?" He took her left hand in his and looked at her seriously. "Delenn - will you marry me?"

She froze, looking at him; after a moment she sat up, propping her head on one hand with an unreadable expression. "What?"

"Marry me." He took her other hand urgently in his own. "I love you, I need you and I want to be with you. Forever. I want you to be my wife." He smiled ruefully. "I know I should have a ring for you, and there are usually traditions to these things, but I'm not really in any shape to be getting down on the floor right now..."

A slightly amused smile touched her lips. "Why would you want to do that?"

He smiled inwardly and shrugged. "It's traditional that a guy gets down on one knee when he proposes marriage."

Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled very slightly. "But I am not on the floor. I am here, with you."

"I know." His smile widened and he slipped his fingers through hers, looking up into her eyes with the deepest love she had ever seen. She smiled, tenderly caressing his face and his gentle smile, as if she might memorise this moment forever. He was battered and bruised, filled with painkillers and fighting exhaustion, but to Delenn he had never been more the man she wanted - never more alive than when she looked at him now, and pledged her life and love to him forever with one simple, tender and passionate gesture.

The medical bay was dark when Delenn opened her eyes: her breath was hard in her chest, gasping at the half-awake remembrance of a dream. She frowned, shivering, suddenly cold and peered into the darkness, assuring herself that this was reality and not the dark, bloody caverns of Z'Ha'Dum. John was there, with her and alive: not the lifeless, battered corpse she had seen wearing his face in her nightmare. She forced herself to relax, feeling his body against her, his chest rising and falling shallowly under her hand. He was cold, she realised: too cold. Panic gripped her as she sat up, kneeling over him; only when she put her fingers to his neck and felt his pulse did she force some measure of self-control on herself. He *was* alive. She had only been dreaming.

She put the back of her hand gently to his face, trying to soothe the tortured expression on his features. Whatever else had happened to him on Z'Ha'Dum that she didn't know or understand, it was obviously at least as bad as her own imaginings. He stirred under her touch, his eyelids fluttering restlessly; leaning toward her hand, a sudden grunt of pain coming from his lips. His skin was clammy; sweat formed a thin sheen on his forehead, his breathing coming in shallow, uneasy rattles and groans from his chest. Fever...

"John." She took his hand urgently in hers, panic momentarily overtaking her. He had been fine when she'd fallen asleep, content to lie next to him when even the effort of holding her in his arms had become too much. She had waited until he slept, lying on her side facing him, watching the careful rise and fall of his breathing and the slow relaxation that overtook his body as he fell deeper into sleep. They had been in space for over two days, probably over three: how Kosh had held him in a suspended state for so long, she had no idea, but now that his body was functioning for itself again she had noticed his injuries worsening. Infection would soon set in, if it had not done so already: she had bathed and dressed the long scrapes on his arms and the deep gash under his eye, but other than cleaning away the dust and grime there had been little she could do for the even deeper wounds on his thigh. There were other scratches, angry red against his pallid skin, that were starting to show signs of infection as well: she hesitated over a long, relatively thin cut that traced his bicep, soothing him apologetically as he stirred and moaned at her touch.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't hearing her, but she had to say it anyway. She pulled back the sleeves of his robe where they rubbed on the livid wounds, giving in after a moment and ripping the material, knowing she would be unable to make him move enough to strip him of it. Better to have the wounds exposed where she could easily tend them than inflame them further.

Tears unwillingly filled her eyes, half in anger and half despair as she looked at his now naked body. His wounds, at least from the outside, did not appear to be life-threatening, but Delenn knew better. Without treatment soon, the infection that had set in with a vengeance in his torn thigh would only worsen and travel through his system. His skin was already too warm to touch, the fever setting in under her hands. She laid her palm to his forehead, briefly, feeling the cold sweat that beaded on his burning skin.

"John." She shook him gently, pushing down her panic. "John, wake up. Please." It took a long moment: then he stirred, his eyes half-opening, looking up at her with hazy eyes.

"Delenn..."

"John." His name was a harsh breath of relief. "Can you hear me?"

"Delenn..."

"I'm here." She held tightly to his hand, stroking his face. "I'm here, John. It's all right." She wasn't sure she believed her words, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he knew she had faith. "It will be all right, I promise. Just lie still."

"Delenn..." His voice was more insistent now, somehow slipping away. He reached for her, and she saw confusion in his eyes. "Are you..."

"I'm here, John. I won't leave you." She took a deep breath, holding his hand to her heart. "I need something to cool you down. I will be back soon." She leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. His skin burned under her lips. She took a shaking breath as she pulled back, removing her hand from his and looking down at him. Surely she, they, had not been through all this to lose him now? To such a little thing?

She forced those thoughts back, managing to find a bowl she could fill with cold water in the galley area of the medical bay. She tried the comm system again, as she had done any number of times while John had slept during the past few days, but still there was no answer to her hail - from a ship or the station. If they had sent someone to find her, she had been too good at evading them on her first journey, although she could not understand why she could not raise Babylon 5. Especially now, when it was so vital that John receive medical attention - why had they left her alone? Did they think she too was dead? No. Lennier, if no one else, would not believe that until he had found her. So why?

She wouldn't think of it, she decided. She would concentrate on John, on helping him until they could arrive home. For him, she had to believe. For him she would believe. He needed her faith now.

She went back to him, covering his naked body with a smooth sterile sheet she had found and wrapping it loosely around him to keep him warm. He was shivering slightly, and sweat stood out on his exposed skin. Within minutes the sheet was damp, clinging to his body, but there was nothing she could do. She had cared for sick friends before, had nursed her father years ago when he had contracted a particularly virulent illness on Minbar, but she had never encountered a Human fever before. She had nothing more than a basic idea of what to do, hoping against hope that what little medication she dared to give John would keep him stable until their seemingly endless journey was over.

He stirred again as she wrung a length of bandage over the bowl of water and laid it gingerly on his forehead, holding his head still with her other hand. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, and she saw to her intense relief that he was still at least partly coherent.

"Shh." She touched his lips, gently. "Shhh, it's all right." She saw the pain in his face as he struggled through the fever to stay with her. "You can sleep, John." She heard momentary tears in her voice and swallowed them firmly, stroking his face reassuringly. "I will take care of you. Sleep now."

His eyes closed slowly, almost hesitantly: only when she was sure he could no longer see her did she allow the despairing tears to well up, hurriedly wiping them from her eyes.

"Delenn..."

She blinked hurriedly, looking down at him, lovingly stroking his hair. "Shh. Save your strength."

"No." He coughed, drawing in a ragged breath, and she felt him shiver under her hands. "Delenn... I have to tell you..."

"Please, John." She was fighting to keep her own control, seeing him so close to leaving her again. "You need to rest."

He shook his head slightly as she took the damp cloth from his forehead and dipped it in the water, smoothing it over his face. "I want to - to tell you - in case..."

"No." She couldn't help crying at the resignation in his tone. "I will not let you leave me again. I need you." Her hands trembled with restrained emotion as she held the cloth to his face. "I love you, John. I don't want to be alone again, please..."

"Delenn." Her name was a forced breath on his lips. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't." She leaned over and kissed him, and he felt her tears on his face before she wiped them away with the soft cloth that stroked his skin. "Don't say goodbye. I don't want to hear it again."

"I love you..."

She held her breath, wiping her tears roughly away as his eyes fluttered closed. "I know, John." A sob filled her throat as she watched him slip into restless unconsciousness, his breathing shallow. She laid the cloth on his burning forehead, running her fingertips delicately down his cheek, her eyes hot with tears. "I know."

Chapter Text

"What do you mean you can't find her?!"

Lennier stood stoically in the middle of Delenn's quarters, and Marcus marvelled at how he could face that tone of voice without flinching. Susan Ivanova was anything but stoic: she was irate. Fury built in her eyes, smouldering in her enraged expression, her body actually trembling with the effort it took to restrain herself from leaping on the young Minbari and beating him senseless for his impassive reaction to the news. She took a long, shuddering breath, turning sharply away to avoid punching him and tugging a rough hand through her hair.

"Lennier, it's been nearly a week." A week during which she had slept for maybe half a day, in total, and had consumed most of her vodka supply plus everything Marcus could find for her in those seedy bars of his. She turned on the Ranger, knowing that for once - unlike Lennier - the sight of his expression might not fill her with the desire to break his face. "Are you telling me we know exactly where she went, we have every ship we can spare looking for her, and we still have no sign of her?"

"Most of the League ships are refusing to help. They say no one comes back from Z'Ha'Dum." He shook his head in helpless frustration. "They won't even try, after all she did for them."

"All they did," Ivanova corrected. Marcus nodded, looking down, tossing his pike restlessly between his hands. "We all know why she's gone. And where." She appealed desperately, growing past anger now. "We still have the White Stars. Surely-"

"Many of the White Stars were destroyed during the last battle," Lennier reminded her quietly. There was something infuriatingly subdued about his tone, and he didn't look at her: just stared at the floor. "Most others are still undergoing repairs."

Ivanova reined in a scream of frustration at his emotionless voice. "How many do we have?"

"Five completely operational, that we can spare." Marcus matched her incredulous expression helplessly. "The League are demanding we keep enough back to protect the station and the ships that are coming here. And as much as I hate it, they're right." He didn't often stand up to her fury, knowing much better than to cross her, but they had no other option. "Susan, for every ship being repaired we need something to protect them. Until the repairs are done there's nothing else to spare. We're doing our best." He tried in vain to console her, knowing explicitly the emotions she was feeling. He hadn't slept last night either, or much the night before. He was on the edge of hysteria whenever he stopped to think, desperate to just go Down Below and get blindingly drunk to wipe this whole sorry situation from his mind for a few blissful hours.

"Our best isn't good enough!" She tugged angrily at a knot in her hair, only having swept a brush through it that morning. "It's five days to Z'Ha'Dum. She'd have to either still be there or be heading back by now."

"We've got White Stars Sixteen and Thirty patrolling the most direct routes through hyperspace. Nothing so far, but it's not exactly an easy job."

"Can't we hail her? She'd know we were looking for her, for God's sake, she knows what she's doing." She shook her head. "With the ship at least."

Marcus reached across and put a hand tentatively on her arm. "Did Stephen tell you..."

"Yeah." When she looked up, tilting her head back, he was surprised to see her eyes fill with tightly held tears. "I don't blame her for doing this. I just wish she'd said something." She put her hands briefly on her face, and when she turned back the tears were gone, swallowed again by her famed Russian reserve. "Did he know, do you think?"

"No." Marcus shook his head, seeing Lennier shift uncomfortably, staring at the lone candle that still stood in the centre of the room. "She didn't tell anyone. Swore Stephen to secrecy."

Ivanova forced a wry smile. "He's gonna get it in the neck when she gets back."

"If she returns." Lennier's voice was quiet, oddly downcast. Ivanova bristled, rounding on him.

"What do you mean, 'IF she returns'? You of all people, Lennier-"

"Leave him alone, Susan." Marcus' voice was reluctantly gentle. "The Minbari have different ways of dealing with this kind of thing." He sighed and lowered his voice. "Stephen told him this morning."

"About- Oh." For once, she closed her mouth and gave the Minbari a look of sympathy. Marcus had explained to her, in detail, the Minbari edict on what Delenn had done - what she had risked to be with Sheridan, to carry his child even unintentionally. Part of her still didn't understand the dreadful sin it seemed to be, but Lennier at least seemed to take it exceptionally seriously. She coughed uncomfortably, trying to find something supportive to say. "Well, um..." She looked at Marcus for support. "At least she knew. I mean, she wouldn't do anything to harm John's child."

"She did not know," Lennier muttered under his breath. Ivanova blinked in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

He still didn't look up, staring at Delenn's unlit candle. "She did not know until I sent him to see her." He glanced at her, a horrible guilt in his eyes. "I feared for her. She would not eat - she hardly slept. Her grief was..." He looked away, shame on his face. "I could not see her that way any longer. So I sent for Doctor Franklin, and he told her-" He couldn't finish the confession, his voice filling with remorse. "I should not have disobeyed her order, but I feared she would..."

Ivanova let out a stunned breath. "You're telling me... Whoa." She shook her head. "Well, I guess it makes sense. I'd probably have run after him too if I'd found out-" She coughed uncomfortably, feeling Marcus' speculative glance. "Well."

"You do not understand."

She was becoming impatient with that self-pitying resignation now. "Well, then, go on. Enlighten me as to the Minbari way."

He looked up, straight into her eyes, and for a moment anger blazed at her. "You believe Delenn has gone to find him." He couldn't say that name, even though he inwardly doubted the Captain could have known how badly his Human desire had defiled his lover. "You believe she wants to find him. To bring him home."

Even Marcus looked surprised at the scepticism in his tone. "Lennier?"

"You were trained by Minbari. You have been to our world." He stared at the Ranger. "We have discussed this before, Marcus. We may look like you - Delenn may look like you, but we are never you. Delenn knows what she has done." Disgust thickened his voice. "What Sheridan has done to her."

Marcus raised a hesitant hand, looking apprehensive. "Uh, Lennier, I agree with you all the way there, but, well..."

"It takes two to tango," Ivanova cut in with a hint of impatience. She shrugged off Marcus' swift glance. "I hate to spring it on you right now, but Delenn's obviously a little more Human than you think."

"She is Minbari." Lennier's voice was tense. "And now she is mal'cra."

Ivanova raised her eyebrows at Marcus. "'Malchrah'?"

"Outcast. Exile," he added reluctantly. "If not her then the child. The Minbari won't recognise a child born out of wedlock, and with an alien?" He shook his head hopelessly. "Besides the fact that it's Sheridan. That just about scuppers her chances altogether."

"After what he's done for them?" Her voice was incredulous, bordering on anger.

"He's still Starkiller. And the Warrior caste are just waiting for a chance to disown her completely." He shook his head again. "They can be violently xenophobic, Susan. Earth has firsthand experience of that, and Sheridan represents everything they still hate about Humans. They've hidden it well but it's still there. You see it occasionally, particularly on Minbar. Add to that their dependence on tradition and their pretty extreme obsession with keeping the race pure, and I don't think Delenn's going home any time soon."

Ivanova stared at him in disbelief, all the more horrified because she could see the truth of his explanation. Even if she didn't understand their attitude, she knew how the Minbari would feel about Sheridan taking one of their own as a lover. A Human lover, in every way that mattered. Had Delenn loved him - did she love him that much? Deeply sympathetic as she was, her heart ached for a moment to be able to feel that kind of emotion for someone. Since Talia...

"All the more reason to find him, I guess." She pulled her mind back to Delenn, intense compassion for her friend echoing in her voice. "If she'd just said something..."

"She will not want to find him." There was something mentally wrong with Lennier, she decided now.

"What?"

"She knows what he has done to her. What he has brought on her and her child." A strained sound of loss trickled through his stiff words. "She is mal'cra now. Sheridan is dead, and she has nothing left to live for."

"Oh God." Ivanova stared at him in horror, whirling on Marcus. "No. She wouldn't want - It's his child!"

"I don't know." Marcus put his hand comfortingly on her arm: she didn't even pull away, frozen in disbelief. "She's not completely Minbari. She'd have a chance of a decent life among Humans, but... Well, she's not Human either." His eyes were haunted with the truth. "She might not want to live without him."

"She wouldn't kill herself. Not if she knew she was carrying his child."

"She wouldn't have to if she wasn't. No one would know."

Ivanova yanked away from him as if he were the Devil incarnate. "You believe this?!"

"I don't know. No one does." His tone was filled with escaping despair. "Except Delenn, and when we find out it might be too late."

Ivanova's hands clamped claw-like onto his arms, her eyes spitting fury as she snarled at him. "Find her, Marcus. Now!"

//Please. *Please!*//

The console sputtered and whined, lights flickering out. Delenn let out a soft sob of frustration, only narrowly avoiding burying her face in her hands. The left was still bandaged, albeit inexpertly and hardly clean now, and her fingers ached with the effort of trying to repair the communications console. She had finally discovered the reason why they were still alone in hyperspace: the ship she had so hurriedly taken had still been undergoing repairs. It was no wonder the crew had evacuated so smoothly - they had probably believed something had gone wrong with the ship during repair. The communications array was erratic and when she had powered down the systems to reach John all the faster, a number of connections had failed where she hadn't noticed them before. Power had not been fully returned to the console and now she was reduced to working haphazardly to reconnect it while keeping an open channel to the medical bay, praying constantly under her breath that she would be in time. John's fever had worsened, and the discovery of her omission had made her suddenly wary of anything else that might be as yet unrepaired. Were the guidance systems functioning properly? Were they even on the right course? What if the jump engines failed before they could emerge into normal space - or worse, mid-jump? She knew how to control a ship, but she was not a technician. She knew only what the systems told her, and if one could lie then others could do the same.

John made a restless sound, and she glanced at the screen to assure herself that it was nothing more than the heat and pain of the fever that made him call to her. He had not been coherent for a day and a half now, only waking briefly to perhaps hold onto her hand, if she was lucky; letting her know he was still with her, somehow. But he was slipping away, terrifyingly slowly, and she did not know what she could do to keep him with her if help didn't come soon.

She leaned into the console again, pushing her hair back from her face and redoubling her efforts of repair. If she could get the console online, she at least stood a chance of reaching someone who might help her; if not, there was a very real possibility that John would die before they reached Babylon 5.

He groaned again: she looked up, unable to ignore that pained sound, and hurriedly finished the connection she thought - this time - might be the correct one. She closed the console and stood up, wiping her hands on her dress and punching in the emergency hail. There was an angry, defiant whine from the console; Delenn swore in a decidedly Human fashion and went for the door.

"*...is... Five. Please... your position.*"

She halted in mid-step, her heart stopping in fearful hope as she turned around. "What?"

"*...repeat... Please state...*" There was a rush of static and then the console gave up, the lights dead. She ran back to check it, ripping off the plating and flicking on the repair lighting. It had been the right connection - in her rush to finish she had not linked it properly and the wiring was burnt through. Delenn sighed heavily, fighting the hysterical frustration at being so close. She had no idea where the proper wiring would be kept. Evidently the crew had not noticed the malfunction either, for their repair tools were nowhere on the bridge. How could she repair this?

She sat up, despairingly glancing around. Another wire caught her hand as she pulled it from the innards of the console: she stared at it. What was she thinking? There was wiring here, everywhere. All she needed was an unnecessary system - but would it be enough? It had to be the correct type of wiring, capable of carrying communications, not just anything she could find...

The viewer. An internal communication system, if she could find the right wiring to remove and use as a patch, would be easy to use... but it would mean she would have to turn off the link to the medical bay - she had no time to be delicate.

She looked back at John. He was sleeping, but not peacefully. The decision was made. She located what she hoped and prayed was the right connection, took it firmly in her hand and yanked.

It came free, and the screen rippled into blackness. Delenn wasted little time in removing the burnt wires, roughly pushing her makeshift link into the casing and tugging to make sure it would hold. The console flickered back on above her, almost warily, but she took only enough notice to patch it through to the internal net before closing the console and leaving the bridge. She had cannibalised the viewer, but with some luck the audio would still work. She would soon find out.

John was quiet as she ran into the medical bay, catching hold of the door as the floor shifted under her, sensing something was wrong.

//Ship?// Her voice was tentative, but there were no further movements. //What's happening?//

//Automated jump to Babylon Five in progress.//

"Automated... Already?"

And then another voice echoed in the room. "*White Star, this is Babylon Control. Please identify yourself.*"

Delenn opened her mouth to answer, moving quickly over to the bed: what she saw made her gasp, all thought of finally, suddenly being home fleeing her mind. "Oh, Valen - John!"

"*Ambassador Delenn?*" The voice was strange - she couldn't picture their face.

"No." Her voice shook, pain welling in her throat and burning behind her eyes. "No... John, no..."

"*White Star, this is Babylon Control. Please respond.*"

She didn't hear the puzzled insistence in that unfamiliar tone, didn't hear the words, heard nothing but the dreadful silence from the bed. No! She couldn't have come this far, have been so close to bringing him back to her just to lose him now! She put her hand on his clammy skin, on his wrist, checking the pulse under his jaw and laying her hand on his heart. A sob jerked from her throat before she could stop it, dimly aware of voices surrounding her as she contained those that sought to follow. John's skin was warm under her hands, but his lips were silent and his chest no long heaved with the effort of breathing. Even his heart had stopped, lying still and lifeless under her shaking hand.

"I need to speak with Stephen." Her voice was breaking, frustrated and terrified. "Please..."

"*He's on his way over now,*" Ivanova's voice assured her.

Susan. She thanked Valen for that voice. "He's not breathing." She didn't care who else was listening. "Susan, help me. I don't know what to do..."

"*John?*" There was surprise in that tone that couldn't be held back. "*He's alive?*"

"He isn't breathing!"

"*Oh God.*" Ivanova took a deep, heavy breath, and was it Delenn's imagination or could she hear other voices? "*Okay, just hang on. Marcus is gonna talk to you while I get a docking bay ready. He'll tell you what to do, okay?*"

"Yes..." Her voice trembled, her hands moving restlessly over John's motionless chest. "Oh, Valen, help me."

"*Delenn.*" Marcus' voice filled the room, no hint of the anxiety or helplessness she felt or had heard in Ivanova's tone. //*Delenn, listen and do exactly what I tell you.*//

//Anything!// She choked back a shaking breath. //He's not breathing, Marcus. His heart isn't beating! I thought I'd lost him on Z'Ha'Dum, but this-//

//*Put your hands on his chest. Over his heart. You have to get it started again.*//

She shook her head, dubiously doing as he asked. //How?//

//*Lace your fingers together and press hard. You have to imitate his heartbeat.*// That wasn't difficult, she thought with relief. She knew the sound of John's heartbeat better than her own.

//How long do I-//

//*Until I tell you to stop,*// he cut in firmly. //*Then I want you to breathe into his mouth, hold onto his nose so that you breathe for him. Count that for a minute, then change over again.*// He paused for a moment. //*Got all that?*//

//Yes.// She tried not to let him hear her uncertainty.

//*Change over. Keep doing that until Stephen gets to you.*//

//Marcus?// She was suddenly afraid he was leaving her to cope alone.

//*We're listening, Delenn. Just keep doing what I told you.*//

//All right...// The primitive technique only intensified her concern. This was going to bring life back to her lover, to drive away the sudden reality of her nightmares?

//*Susan's talking with Stephen. They're coming up on the docking bay now.*// His tone was calm, soothing her desperate anxiety. //*He'll be all right, Delenn.*//

Did he really believe that? She found it hard to summon up that faith herself right now, with John's lifeless body under her inexperienced hands. If they took much longer, nothing would bring him back. He needed a miracle as it was, and even with all the love in her heart she could not provide that.

//*They're docking now, Delenn.*// He kept using her name, trying to stay with her even over such a distance. //*You just have to hold it together a bit longer.*//

Her breath tore in her throat, begging to be let free in great, gasping sobs at such a gentle reassurance. He'd heard it, then; the desperation and loneliness in her voice that she had tried to hide, the fear that had filled her mind and slowly built since that last, tender 'I love you'.

//I'm frightened, Marcus.// In her own language, private amongst whoever else might be listening. //I'm going to lose him...//

And then there was the most wonderful sound in the world, the most beautiful, glorious echo of her own uneven breathing as John's chest stirred under her hands. She gasped, touching his lips, feeling the warmth start to return. "Oh, Valen..."

"*Delenn? Delenn!*"

"John." She slipped her hand under his head, leaning towards him, ignoring Marcus' concerned voice. "John?" His eyelids flickered briefly, not even fully open before they drifted shut again, but it was enough to make her smile desperately through her tears. "John, please, stay with me..."

"Ambassador Delenn?" The voice was closer suddenly, and it wasn't the jovial accent of her faithful Ranger. A hand touched her arm, pulling her back, and suddenly the room was filled with people, surrounding the bed as Stephen Franklin came into view.

She collapsed then, in the sudden realisation that she had achieved her goal - her impossible task of bringing John home alive. She felt a dull stab of pain at the thought of Kosh, dying so coldly in the Shadow cloud; at the memories of the past few desperate days; at the image of John, lying still and bloody on the cold rock of Z'Ha'Dum. A wave of sorrow and relief and pain washed over her, and she was only vaguely aware of Megan's face in front of her as she collapsed completely and gentle hands lowered her to the deck.

Chapter Text

"Delenn. Delenn."

She could hear her name; a soft male voice, over and over, wonderfully soothing through the almost painful ache filling her body. She felt as if she were fighting, struggling through a thick haze that weighed down on her, pushing her down, holding her unconscious as much as she fought against it.

"Delenn?" She became aware of a familiar tightness in her right hand, a gentle warmth around her left as the voice became clearer. "Delenn, can you hear me?"

'Yes,' she wanted to say, but she seemed to be floating in her own body without the control to speak or even open her eyes. She tried to reach out, hearing that voice again. John? Was it him? His hand grasping hers? She couldn't make it out, her head - now that she could feel it - heavy and aching. John... Was he there? He'd been there before, last she remembered. Was it his voice, calling her name? There was something strange about it, but perhaps that was the pain in her head. Perhaps he was awake; he'd been sleeping-

Memory came back to her, and she was profoundly thankful when she found her voice to scream.

"John!"

The hand tightened on hers as she shot up from the bed she must have been lying on, her eyes flying open in panic. "John! No!"

"Hey, hey!" Someone pushed her back down to the bed, and the grasp on her hand disappeared as strong hands settled on her shoulders. "Delenn." There was nothing soothing in that tone now, and it was a different voice: sharper, stronger. "Delenn, listen to me."

Her eyes focused, with painful difficulty, to see Susan Ivanova leaning over her. They were her hands that pinned Delenn to the bed, her voice demanding attention. She frowned, half in confusion and half panic. "Susan?" John. "What happened?!"

"He's okay. He's okay, Delenn."

Okay? She had grown used to the Human phrase, and it certainly did not describe John as she had last seen him. "No, no-"

"Yes." Ivanova shook her gently, meeting and holding her frightened gaze. "Trust me. He's gonna be fine."

"Susan." That calm male voice spoke again, and Delenn managed to turn her head far enough to see Marcus standing over her, his hand close to hers on the bed. Ivanova looked up at him for a second: after a moment and with a reluctant nod she stepped back. Delenn sat up instantly, panic still running through her at the vivid memory or John's lifeless body and the terrifying loneliness of that empty room.

Then Marcus' hand covered hers, quiet but firm, and it was clear she wasn't going anywhere. He looked almost sternly at her then; she forced herself to lie back, suddenly exhausted under that resolved expression, but her roiling emotions must have been clear on her face because he smiled slightly, stepping away from the bed.

"I'll get an update for you."

Delenn tried to smile gratefully, but her concern outweighed the effort and she had to stare at the ceiling to regain some semblance of control. Ivanova's hand tightened momentarily on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. He's okay, really."

Delenn looked helplessly at her as the Ranger slipped quickly out of the door. The commander grinned wryly.

"Listen, you go ahead and worry to your heart's content. It's you he'll shout at when he wakes up."

It was a somewhat light-hearted way to try, but it somehow reassured her more than the words to hear such an easy tone again. Susan could be even more stoic than a Minbari if she was worried, but she never joked about such things. Hope blossomed in her, tears of relief welling in her eyes.

"Susan..."

"He's really fine, Delenn." Ivanova squeezed her hand, smiling. It was inexplicably soothing to feel that, Delenn noticed. For all that she was still Minbari, at least in some ways, there was an informality to Human affection that was always refreshing - and never more so than now, when she so desperately wanted company after so many weeks of isolation even before her reckless ordeal. She felt a tear escape, surprising herself that she didn't try to stop it. John was alive - that was all that mattered now. That he was alive, and home, and they could be together again.

"Can I see him?" It was a sudden, overwhelming need. Ivanova made a face.

"I wouldn't rate your chances. According to Stephen, you owe him at least a week of bed rest and he's ready to strap you down if you try running off again."

Delenn winced inwardly. She hadn't considered, so desperately driven to reach John, how her sudden disappearance must have affected those who still remained behind. Believing John dead, with Mister Garibaldi missing, to consider losing her as well must have hurt them all deeply.

"I am sorry, Susan." She hoped they would believe that of her. "I didn't think..."

"Doesn't matter." The other woman shook her head at the insistence. "There's enough guilt to go round already around here. You don't need any more." She flashed a warm smile and a shrug. "Besides, everyone's so glad you're both alive we don't care about anything else right now."

A smile touched her lips, remembering Marcus' expression when he had held her hand and the certainty in his quiet voice. But there had been something else there, too... an almost desperate relief in his eyes, in his tense grasp. A sudden, awful thought crossed Delenn's mind, looking urgently at Ivanova: it was there too, in her face. Concern welled up again.

"Did anything else happen while I was - gone?" Ivanova glanced away, just for a second: Delenn gripped her hand, hard, forcing her gaze down. "Susan? What is it?"

"Nothing." She said it quietly, as if she didn't want to speak it aloud, before quickly forcing a smile. "We're just glad you're both all right."

"There is something else." She sounded more in control now, she noticed thankfully. With John, she had allowed herself the luxury of such open emotion but here, even with the friendly affection in Susan's presence, she would much prefer some semblance of discipline. "Susan, tell me."

"Delenn? Delenn!"

She sat up involuntarily at the sound of that panicked shout, only Susan's hand moving to her arm restraining her from falling as she realised she wasn't as in control as she had imagined.

"Delenn!" There was that voice again, and then as Marcus came back to the door Lennier all but skidded into the room, obviously out of breath. The nurse attending her looked up in surprise, raising her eyebrows at Ivanova who gave her a curt gesture to leave. The door, however, was blocked by Lennier: he seemed frozen to the floor, his eyes wide and unreadable. Her name rested on his lips, but he seemed suddenly unable to speak as he stared directly into her face, obviously unaware of how shaken he appeared. Delenn frowned curiously, confused, halfway to reaching for him when he backed abruptly out of the room, that unreadable expression still haunting his eyes.

"Lennier?" She called after him, confused and suddenly worried at his quickly receding footsteps. Was he not glad to see her, to know that she was all right? Surely if Ivanova stood here, and Marcus behind him with his own relief so plain in his eyes, Lennier would want to do the same? He had sounded so desperately anxious, and yet he had not even spoken to her - as if he could suddenly do nothing but stare at her when he finally knew she was alive. Hadn't he worried for her? She knew how he felt about her, at least understood that it was more than he wanted to allow himself to feel. He above anyone would have been frantic at her disappearance.

Was he angry with her? She struggled with the idea. He had every right, of course - they all did - but Lennier of all people would not show it so publicly. He had never, even with all the mistakes she had made and things she had had to ask him to do, ever shown his displeasure to her face before. She had probably frightened him, as she had all of them in leaving so suddenly, but she knew him well enough that he would forgive her that. What else could there be that would make him so-

Oh, Valen, no.

She stared at Marcus, still standing there, horror in her face. She didn't have to ask him: it was clear in his face that she was right. Lennier knew. They all knew.

"He thought you were dead." His voice was flat suddenly, devoid of emotion or even the reassurance she very much needed now. "He thought you wanted to die, knowing what you'd done."

Helpless tears burned her eyes as she looked away from him. He was trained in Minbari ways - he knew how great a crime she had committed, even in the name of love, even though both she and John had needed it so badly. She didn't want to look at him, couldn't, knowing she would see that awful understanding in his face even if he did not agree. She turned away from them both, trying to wipe away the tears before they started. She would not let them see her cry, not for this. For John, yes, but not for this. This was private.

It took an immense amount of effort, more than she had believed she had left, to swallow back the tears and close her eyes, willing herself back into the blissful, peaceful oblivion of sleep. Even the fading nightmares would be better than the reality of this. How many people knew of her disgrace? How many more would find out after this was over?

"Delenn?"

She didn't move, trying not to care as Ivanova's voice tried to pull her back. The other woman sounded concerned, and suddenly angry. Marcus started to say something - Ivanova broke in, cutting him off.

"Then why don't you go find him. Hmm?" That tone brooked no argument; Delenn didn't hear him leave, but he obviously obeyed the veiled command because she heard no bones breaking. After a moment, there was the sound of a chair dragged on the floor, and quietly controlled breathing close by. "Delenn."

She opened her eyes, hearing the terse patience that threatened to crack in Ivanova's voice. She could not truthfully say she was afraid of the other woman, but she knew when it was safe to cross her and this was not one of those times.

Ivanova was sitting now, hands clasped seriously as she leaned forward, looking squarely into her eyes. This was obviously not going to be avoided, Delenn noticed helplessly. There was nothing she could do about it now.

"I take it this," she waved a hand at Delenn's position, "means you figured out that he knows." There was no reply. She let out an angry sigh. "I'm gonna kill that damned Ranger of yours-"

Delenn shook her head. "It is not his fault."

"He shouldn't have let Lennier in here until I had a chance to beat some sense into him." She sounded angry at the Ranger - not that she wasn't usually, for some reason or another. "Look, Delenn, just so you know, Stephen really didn't have a choice. I mean, I practically bullied him into it - and you know me." She shrugged ruefully, trying to lighten the moment. "Don't take no for an answer." Delenn smiled very slightly. Ivanova couldn't help it, arching an eyebrow in amusement. "Neither do you, it seems."

It took a moment to realise what she meant; Delenn looked away abruptly, mortified that Ivanova would bring this up as well, and so crudely. Ivanova put a tentative hand on her arm, her voice sounding more reassuring now.

"Like it or not, I do understand the basics of the act. It's all pretty much one flavor, whoever you are." Her hand tightened on Delenn's arm, grasping her attention, knowing she was listening. "I could probably give you a few hints, if you like." She flashed a look of wry amusement at Delenn's sudden stare. "Come on, I'm only Human. Believe me, I know what it's like sometimes." Her smile softened. "It's no sin to want someone, you know. Considering how fast we're going to hell around here I'd say it's the least of your worries."

Delenn looked down. "Lennier does not believe that."

"Neither do you, from the looks of things. I'll tell you right now, though - John doesn't regret it, and he doesn't want you to either."

Delenn stared at her, trying to sit up. "Have you spoken to him?"

Susan winced ruefully, holding her down and shaking her head with a slight apology. "I don't have to. I know him well enough. Besides, anyone with eyes can see how he feels about you. Even Lennier," she added with a grimace. "Though he doesn't want to. You know what he thought you were going to do, when he found out you'd gone..."

"I know." She closed her eyes painfully. "I should have expected that he would think - when I knew what I had done..."

"It takes two to tango," Ivanova reminded her. She frowned, confused.

"Is that another word for-"

"Uh-huh." Ivanova looked a little uncomfortable, but it was obvious she still wasn't going to let it drop. "Look, Delenn, I'm not going to drag myself into this. It's between you and John, but..." She sighed heavily. "Well, that's just it. This isn't something you did alone."

"I know that, Susan."

"Lennier doesn't." Ivanova took a deep breath, trying not to look at the images this conversation was drawing in her mind. "He doesn't think you did anything, Delenn. He thinks this is something John did to you."

Shock and alarm jolted through her. "What?!"

"Don't worry, he didn't have much luck convincing me. Doesn't stop him believing it, though."

Delenn stared at her, suddenly understanding Lennier's confused display. He wasn't angry with her - the fury she had seen in his eyes was for John, not for her. Only the pity and anxiety had been for her; for what he thought she had been through and what he had believed she wanted to do because of it. Among Minbari it would be a sin punishable by death to force such an intimate thing on someone unwilling - it was no wonder he had thought she had wanted to die. The shame would be unbearable, for her, for John and especially for the child.

But did he really think John had done that to her, even having seen them together, even knowing them both as he did?

He didn't know what to think, she realised. Seeing her alive, knowing she had risked her life to bring John back even after his seeming betrayal. When he believed John had forced himself on her, made her outcast, how could he understand why she had done what she had?

"Pretty much one big mess," Ivanova concurred in a rueful voice; obviously Delenn's thoughts were clearer than she thought.

"Yes." She wondered if Susan knew how true that was.

"He really loves you, Delenn." For a moment, Delenn wasn't sure if she meant John or Lennier. "Try not to worry too much. I'm sure it'll work out fine."

Delenn smiled, a little amused. "That is unusual for you to say."

Ivanova grinned wryly back at her. "Yeah, well, don't tell anyone, but I think I'm coming down with a bad case of optimism."

"Your secret is safe," Delenn assured her. Ivanova smiled and briefly squeezed her hand as she stood up.

"So is yours."

Delenn put an instinctive hand on her stomach, looking up at the other woman. Ivanova grinned at the look on her face.

"You'll be a good mother, you know. You've got the patience for it at least." She raised her eyebrows with a wry grin. "You'd have to, to put up with John Sheridan solidly for nearly a week."

"It was... difficult." She was only half teasing. Ivanova nodded soberly and put a hand on her arm. She didn't need to reply to understand.

"I'll send someone in to you. Stephen probably wants to talk to you - quite severely, I think." She winced ruefully. "He really hates it when his patients run out on him, you know."

"Indeed I do." Franklin's sardonic voice came from the doorway. Ivanova flashed Delenn a mock-sympathetic smile and crossed paths with him as he came towards her. "Especially when they come back with even more work for me."

"John," she started fearfully, suddenly aware that she had all but forgotten her injured lover.

"He's doing fine," he reassured her firmly. "We had to do some heavy-duty stitching in his thigh, we put in a lot of regen packs and he's going to be heavily sedated for a few days, but there shouldn't be any permanent damage."

"Can I see him?" The question rose quickly on her lips again, subdued equally swiftly by his frown as he checked her IV.

"He's sleeping, and you should be doing the same." He quieted her protest with a firm gaze that said she would not win this argument. "The Captain may be more obviously injured, Ambassador, but you're not exactly a picture of health yourself. Your system is severely depleted, you've lost weight and you're suffering from acute fatigue. Which is a medical condition and needs treating, no matter how much you fight it." He pushed an injector into the IV, and it took only a moment before she felt the familiar hazy sensation overtake her body as her eyes drifted shut.

"Lennier..."

"No!" The vehemence in that usually calm voice shocked even Susan Ivanova. "I cannot. She knows-"

"And whose fault is that?" Ivanova grabbed him suddenly by the arm, ignoring his surprise, scowling fiercely. "All I'm asking is that you talk to her. Go and see her. She's been back three damn days already - the least you could do is let her know you care enough to say hi."

"Of course I care." His voice was once again quiet, but there was a deceptively composed bite to the words. "But I cannot see her."

Ivanova stared at him: finally, with a disgusted snort, she all but pushed him away from her. "That's it. I give up. You know what? You just go on making her feel like the outcast you seem to think she is. Just - stick to your traditions and you'll be just fine. And another favor?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Don't bug me again until you've sorted this, or I swear to God I'll break your bone." She spun angrily on her heel and left him standing.

"You should at least say hello, Lennier." The other, calmer participant in this less than private discussion stood tentatively against the wall of the main MedLab corridor, looking carefully serene and nonchalant. He knew Lennier didn't believe the charade, but at least he was trying. "She wants to see you, you know. She-"

"I cannot!" Lennier turned on him, his eyes if not his body expressing his almost desperate anger. "She is shamed among Minbari. If I were to see her..."

"Come on, Lennier. Surely you care enough to stand by her?" Marcus' tone was incredulous - as well it should be, judging from Lennier's surprised and fervent reaction.

"I have pledged myself to her. There is nothing I would not do for her." He took a deep, supposedly calming breath. "And that is why I must stay away."

Marcus was not too proud to admit when he was completely out of his depth. "Uh, excuse me, Lennier..." He raised a tentative hand slightly. "I missed the boat then. Mind running me through that Minbari mind-set one more time?"

Lennier cast him a quizzical expression; when he spoke it was with exaggerated patience as if to a small, somewhat recalcitrant child.

"If I were to see her, she would know that I know..." A bitter taste filled his mouth at the words. "That others know that she has been - intimate - with Sheridan."

"She knows that already, Lennier."

He took a deep breath that sounded almost like an inward growl. "She would know that I see her disgrace. I could not shame her that way."

So that was it. Marcus just blinked, thrown off beam suddenly by the unexpected turn. Bloody hell, the Minbari had some strange ways of looking at things.

"And what, forgive me for asking, are you doing to her by refusing to even look at her?" He didn't give the Minbari time to answer, knowing it would only be another stubborn stalling technique his species were so renowned for. "She wants to see you, Lennier. She needs to see you. She needs a friend, and I'm not it. I've tried." He shrugged, deceptively nonchalant. "Someone had to, and Ivanova's too damn busy trying to hold all our lives together to have a personal life, her own or anyone else's. All Delenn has is a personal life right now." He could see his words trying to penetrate, pushed further. "She's lonely, Lennier. It's been three days now, she's still stuck in MedLab, for all she knows the universe is going down the tube around her ears and the one person who might possibly be able to yank it back up is still lying in a coma down the corridor! She went through ten kinds of hell just to get him back alive - and believe me I know, I've heard all about it - and right when she thought everything was going right he starts trying to die on her. Forgive me again for saying so, but any small trauma she might feel from seeing you is going to run and hide in comparison."

Lennier was actually trembling with uncertainty as the words hit home, aimed by the Ranger's steady gaze. Marcus sighed and flashed him a rueful half-grin.

"Just go and see her, Lennier. Speak to her. Let her know you're here for her the way he can't be right now." He saw hackles rise at the mention of the Captain and winced. "There are some things you need to hear from her as well, I think. She wants to tell you, if you'll just get over yourself and talk to her." He gave the Minbari a light push down the corridor. "Go on. For her if not for you."

For her. He took a tentative step down the corridor to the private rooms, glancing uncertainly back at Marcus, still watching him evenly. For Delenn. He could do this, for her. If she wanted it. And Marcus had certainly been insistent enough that she did, although he only hesitantly believed the Ranger. Ivanova was another matter - she knew nothing of what she said, not understanding the depth of Delenn's shame. Marcus... he knew Minbari ways, had been trained in them, but he was Human. Just as Delenn had been trained and raised as a Minbari, but was also now Human.

Too Human.

He stopped abruptly, his mind frozen in contest with itself as he struggled to find some answer for it. This was wrong. He did not want to bring such shame to her by looking on her, by saying what had to be said. He did not want to bring that terrible, haunting loneliness and hurt back to her face that he had seen so many times when their people rejected her. But how could he see her, talk to her, look at her, without thinking of it? She would know, and she would make him speak of it. Of her shame, her disgrace at Sheridan's hand.

He could not do it. He took a step backward, fighting his own need to prove himself and stand at her side through such a time. He could not subject her to this. After what Sheridan had done to her... among the Humans she could pretend it was 'all right', have some semblance of peace before their people discovered her disgrace and disowned her completely. Her peace of mind meant more than his own - he could not jeopardise that. He took another step back.

"Lennier?"

His head jerked sharply to the side, realising too late that he had already passed her room. Delenn sat up on the flattened bed, holding a sheet of paper in her hands; she had looked up to see him there, he realised, and her face held a sudden expression of pleased relief. "I thought it was you."

He back-pedalled suddenly, inexplicably desperate not to see her. Only the sound of her voice, thick slightly with emotion, called him back. "No! Do not go!"

He reminded himself that he would do anything for her. He took a hesitant step forward, into the room. "Delenn?"

"Please." She sounded almost hurt. "Please stay, Lennier. I know-" She looked down, unable to face him suddenly, her voice pleading. "I know you may not wish to, now, but..."

This was what he had been so afraid of. That she would be too ashamed to look at him and see that he did not care what Sheridan had done to her, that she was still Minbari in his eyes. Her soul and heart were still pure, no matter the Human sullying of her body. He believed that. He wanted her to see that.

"Of course I will stay, if you wish to see me." He crossed the room to her, seeing a spark of hope in her eyes as he sat down in the chair beside her. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled then; a warm, genuine expression tinged only slightly with worry. "The sickness has gone. I have eaten again for the first time today." Profound relief echoed in her voice. "I am better to be home, Lennier. I am so sorry I could not tell you-"

"It doesn't matter." He did not want this conversation. "You are home now, Delenn. Do not worry yourself with such matters."

Her smile was gentle and somehow reproving. "It should be said, Lennier. I had no intention of frightening you all so badly, but when I left, I..." She shook her head. "I don't know any other way to explain it. I had to find him, Lennier." He could almost hear tears in her voice, but when she spoke again they were gone. "You of all people must understand that. I would be nothing without him here."

"Do not speak of it." His voice sounded harsher than he wanted. "It is not your doing, Delenn. The disgrace should not be yours to bear."

She looked away, sounding tired. "Ivanova told me you would say that. I tried not to believe it, but I should have known she would see far better than I." She took a deep, shuddering breath, and there was no need to see her face to know she was struggling for composure to get through what had to be said. She seemed to lose it for a moment; regaining control, just barely, to look at him through eyes that shone with tears. "I am sorry, Lennier. I never intended for this. I thought..." She swallowed her tears, turning away from him, her composure slipping with a quiet sob. "It was shameful of me, I know, but we had been through so much and I needed him so badly..."

No. He was not hearing this. She was not telling him this. Anything, anything in the world but this. To know she had - no. It could not be true. Anything except this!

"In Valen's name, Delenn." His voice was quiet, hurting desperately and swamped with disbelief. "Why?"

"I don't know." Her voice broke: that wasn't true. She did know. "I can't explain it to you." Such a Human need, so alien to him. How could he hope to understand even if she could give him the words? She knew how he cared for her, how that blinded him to the truth of her change sometimes. She saw it in his face, in his eyes when he looked at her and forgot that her long, dark, alien hair was not the only difference in her body and mind.

"I'm sorry, Lennier." She didn't know what else to say. And she was sorry, for hurting him with such a thing, for betraying his belief in her and breaking so many rules that could not be forgiven. She could never regret the act, or the child growing inside her - but for Lennier, for the pain and anger and betrayal in his eyes, she would never cease to be sorry. "I know you don't understand. I did not expect you to. But please, Lennier, do not be angry with me. I did not do this to insult our ways, or to avoid the rituals. I only..." Valen, how could he understand? "I wanted to be with him. I am Human as well as Minbari now; I feel what a Human would feel, and with John - it was so easy to be that way, to forget for a while..." She hadn't thought it would be this hard to explain, to take away that flat yet somehow angry stare. She had thought he would stand by her in this, as he had in so many other things. Above all, she had never expected the horrible pain in his eyes when he looked at her.

"It was my choice, Lennier."

"No." His voice was quiet, desperately clutching at denial.

"Yes." It was hard to tell him something so personal. "I asked him. I offered myself to him. John was reluctant, but I wanted it and he would never deny me." She took a deep breath, wanting him to know, needing that final barrier of denial to fall. "It was my doing, Lennier. My choice. Do you understand?"

He shook his head wordlessly, unable to look at her. He understood - he understood all too well. She was not Delenn anymore, not the Delenn he had known, not completely. She could never be that person again, and he had not realised it until now. To think that she had wanted it, invited it...

"I know you were angry for me, Lennier, and I cannot blame you for that, but... as much as I do not want it, I at least deserve your anger. John does not. He never has." Bittersweet memories filled her mind. "He wanted to wait. He knows enough of Minbari ways to know it was at least frowned upon by our people." This, then, he would know; this final betrayal of who she had been. "I didn't tell him the rest. I knew he would send me away if I did, and I could not bear that. Not when I knew..." She swallowed, looking down and pushing those memories away. "I wanted us to have one night together. The rituals were taking too long, I didn't know..." she took a breath, steadying herself. "I didn't know if we would both be alive or dead by the next day. Our customs, our rituals, they were never designed for this, for the life we are both leading..."

That was true, he supposed. Valen, in all his prescience, could never have foreseen the way this war would lead. But that was not reason enough to throw away so much...

"He should know, Delenn."

"No!" Her eyes flashed suddenly, despite her weakened state, and he saw there the possibility that for the first time in a long while, she was angry at him. "You will not speak of this with him. Or in his presence."

He stiffened. "Will you?"

She forced back the uncertainty that answered that question. "He knows of my condition. The rest will wait until we are both stronger. It is a private matter," she insisted firmly to quell his obviously lingering doubts. "John and I will deal with this in our own way. Perhaps it will not be a traditional way for either of us, but we will manage." Her voice softened as she laid a careful hand on his arm, unwilling to let it end this way. "It is what I want, Lennier."

To be with Sheridan. To bear his outcast child, and in doing so make an outcast of herself. To be more Human than he had ever imagined her becoming...

To be alien to him.

He forced himself to show her a smile, but it only tightened the vice around his heart and soul. His tone was cool and polite. "If it is your wish."

Delenn's smile was sorrowful as she looked back at him, her own voice soft and nearly tearful. "Thank you." Her fingers tightened gratefully on his arm; he stiffened, not noticing his own reaction until he saw the pain of understanding in her eyes.

"I should go." His tone begged her to release him from this now, while some measure of dignity could still be salvaged. "I will arrange for your appointments to be cleared until the Captain..." He paused, just for a beat, but it echoed loudly in the room. "Until you are ready to leave."

Delenn, to his remorseful gratitude, managed to smile at the consideration. "Thank you, Lennier."

He turned to go.

"Lennier?"

He paused, and the way he stood there she could suddenly see John, angry and determined to leave even as she begged him to believe how much he meant to her. With him, the words had been easy... but for Lennier and the stiff-backed betrayal turned toward her now, there was nothing she could say.

He left in silence.

Chapter Text

Delenn sighed. Quietly, of course; careful not to let Franklin hear as he administered the daily dose of the medication which, to her relief, now kept at least the physical sickness away. She had been confined in MedLab for over a week now, and despite her protests that she should be out with the fleet, or at least in Ivanova's place in the War Room, there was a much more private reason for her desperate need to leave. She had no doubt that with John still... sleeping, she was the natural leader in his place, but she grew more afraid by the day that if Stephen did not release her soon, she would not have the strength to go back and face her life again.

Franklin drew the injector back from her arm, tapping it thoughtfully against his palm as he matched her hopeful look with a tired smile.

"Well, Ambassador." He set the injector down on the tray and wheeled it out of the way as he checked the monitors again. "One more day and it looks like you're free to go."

She managed a smile, despite the uncertainty in her eyes. "Thank you, Stephen."

"I still want you to rest," he reminded sternly. The smile widened just a little. "You're as bad as John when you want to be, and I will drag you back in here if I hear you're over-exerting yourself."

The smile dimmed again slightly at his mention of Sheridan. "Is there still no change?"

"Nothing new." His tone was reticent. It was obvious he hated being the one to break such news every day, but she had to know. They would tell her as soon as there was anything to tell, of course, but still some part of her needed to ask the question.

"May I see him?" She had only been into that cool, sterile room once or twice, when she could persuade Megan of how beneficial it would be for her own condition, and although it hurt more than words to see him that way at least it meant she was close to him. There was so much she needed to ask, needed to tell... Lennier's words still weighed heavily on her mind, and more than anything she was fearful of whether her resolve would outlast John's fever-induced coma. A week now, and still nothing...

"Go in for a little while. It might do some good." The doctor ran a hand over his cropped hair, looking tired as he shook his head. "I've done everything I can think of... now he has to do his part. If he's not ready to wake up-"

"Then he will not wake up," Delenn finished softly. He looked chagrined and she managed to flash him a tired smile. "I have been told that already."

He matched her look for a moment. "I wish I had something else to say."

"You have done all you can. That is what matters." She held the smile, drawing on what little belief she had left to reassure them both. "All we can do now is have faith."

He nodded tiredly, and it wasn't hard to see the exhaustion in his eyes. She saw it in all of them, when they took time out of overflowing schedules to visit her; yet another reason why she desperately needed to be at work again, away from her own thoughts and in the place they needed her to be. Where John needed her to be. It was a credit at least to his leadership that they had coped so long, but nothing could replace his determined vision to end this war. She could only hope to hold it together long enough that he would be at her side again, healthy and unwavering just the way she had last seen him, before all the horrors had begun. They had had so many dreams, been so resolved to finish this and build a life together, and in all their time it had never occurred to them that the price for their destiny might be so high... or so personal...

"Still no word?"

She looked up in confusion, schooling her expression to a glance of tired questioning. "I'm sorry?"

"Lennier." Her facade slipped immediately, albeit only for a moment, and she knew by the sudden sympathy in his tone that he saw it. "Look, I know I don't know an awful lot about this-"

"No. You do not." She turned her head away, over-reaching deliberately to hide her face and grasping the few reports she had managed to coax from Ivanova's over-protective control. "Thank you for your concern, Stephen, but there is nothing to be done. Now, I'm sure you have more important duties than my welfare."

"Not until John's awake."

She shot him a look: he countered it with a warmth that made her feel suddenly guilty for her stiff tone. If they could only leave her to deal with it alone, the way Minbari coped with such shame...

But then, she could not be Minbari any longer.

"I... apologise," she acceded softly. He smiled wryly, and she tried hard to return it. "Some things about Humans, I still find... difficult... to understand."

He nodded, giving her a silent smile of friendship: she managed to mirror that far more easily, she noticed, and he seemed pleased by her reaction as he wheeled the medical cart out of her room. He paused at the door then, and turned back to look at her. "One thing about Humans you should know, Ambassador. We're damned difficult to get rid of when you need us."

Delenn smiled quietly at that, as he left her alone; she was surrounding herself with Humanity, she realised as she actually considered it. Of course there was John, and Ivanova who had become her closest female friend almost as soon as she had emerged from the chrysalis - and now Stephen, still more reserved than the others but suddenly a close confidant when she had needed one most... and Marcus, always obedient but with that jovial, younger-brother playfulness that exposed itself so rarely in her presence. She had never considered before - never had time to spend doing so before, she realised with a touch of sadness - just how much the Humans here had come to mean to her. And she to them, apparently, she reminded herself with a forceful hope. Even in the midst of everything, it felt so good to know that she might be able to belong here, among them. And with Lennier's current state of mind...

He cared for her. She knew and understood that, and she had tried hard not to do anything that might call that fact to his attention. He would be mortified if he ever knew his feelings were so obvious, to her or to anyone... But in hiding her understanding, she realised now, she had kept from him any indication that she could feel that way for someone else... and that she could come to feel so strongly as to act as she had, to complete her transformation from Minbari to Human the only way she had known how. Her final betrayal of Minbari ritual had come as a shock to him, and perhaps - privately - an insult that she had seen fit to keep both the knowledge and emotions to herself. However it hurt, she wasn't surprised at his refusal to visit her again. Marcus delivered her work now, with a forced cheerfulness that told her instantly of his anger toward her young aide. She had considered passing on a message for him, but what could she say? The image of his pain-filled expression still burned her mind, and she knew that he had heard everything he wanted to hear from her. Pursuing him now was only desperation in the face of that which lay still in the next room, needing no pursuit but hope and giving her no option but to wait and pray.

She slipped down from the bed, still a little slowly in anticipation of the nausea that had usually accompanied the movement and relieved that the rest and regular medication had reduced at least those symptoms. Smoothing her robe, she steadied herself for a moment and slipped on her overdress, preparing herself at least on the surface for appearing to the outside world again. She was Delenn even if she was not Minbari, and she would be strong. Because she had to be.

And because she had nothing else that she knew how to do.

She knew the way to John's room, would have known it even if that last visit had not been escorted so slowly that she had taken in even the tile pattern on the flooring before finally being allowed to see him. Something still pulled her to his side; hardly as strongly as Kosh's appeal, of course, and plainly different - this time she knew it was her own heart, the strength of her own feelings instead of the Vorlon's urgency that drew her close to her lover again.

The room was unattended as she stepped inside, resting her hand briefly on the doorframe for support at the sight of him again. How long had it been since he had moved, or his expression had changed - days, growing closer to weeks now? Even his breathing was the same as the last time, the quiet lights of the monitors still beating the same rhythm as always as his chest rose and fell evenly alongside. How long would she wait now? How many days more would he stay this way while their child grew and their cause struggled to hold onto the strength he gave it?

She remembered her own words to Franklin - that all they could do for him now was to have faith, hoping it would be enough and not knowing what else there was left for them all if it wasn't. And she needed it now, to keep her strong for both of them - for all of them, she corrected herself silently as she touched his cool hand, the memory crystal clear of that strong grasp holding her as she told him of their child. How much faith she had left now, though, she wasn't sure.

She sat down slowly beside the bed, taking his hand between hers and carefully avoiding the IV that fed under his pale skin. Franklin's regen packs had done most of the work of healing for him, and she could only remind herself that without Kosh's miraculous protection he would not even be here to be healed at all... but she knew that gentle face and strong body better than anything in her world, and to only watch the changes his injuries slowly wrought was heartbreaking. Before, she had been able to do something, at least, but watching and waiting and praying... it wasn't enough, not with the weight of worry for everyone on her shoulders even as she sat at his bedside.

"I miss you," she whispered softly. He didn't stir, not that she had thought he would for simply the sound of her voice; she lifted his hand carefully to her cheek, trying to imagine for just a moment that he was awake and touching her that way, the way he always did. "Everything is so difficult now... Susan does what she can, but I think she knows it isn't enough..." She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing his palm tighter to her cheek. "Nothing will be enough until you are well again."

She wanted a reply, then. Wanted him to open his eyes and smile at her and answer that everything would be all right soon, but he didn't. And the silence still hurt more than anything.

"I don't know what to do." She wondered if he could hear her voice, or if it was so silent in his world as in hers now. "How can I ask them to do this, John? They want to believe that we can win, that things will be all right, but how can I ask that of them now when I hardly believe myself?"

Susan Ivanova shook out her hair and sighed. It had been a long night, and she had no doubt there were longer to come before they got out the other side of this war. If they got out at all, she reminded herself with her typical pessimism. It wasn't looking very likely right now, all things considered. John still showed no signs of recovery beyond his miraculous return, despite Franklin's concerted efforts to ignore sleep himself in bringing him around, and Delenn had been at his side most of the day despite her own orders to rest as much as possible. She was going to need it to come back to this madness tomorrow, Ivanova knew. It was even driving her crazy trying to keep everything - and everyone - together, and she knew Delenn well enough that even that stubborn Minbari strength couldn't win over alone. Their League support was only holding together on the thinnest hope of Sheridan waking soon, and the suspicious silences whenever she caught them talking only confirmed the knowledge that more and more were uncertain if he would recover at all. It was only a matter of time now until something gave way - whether that would be them or her was down to Sheridan.

"Damn you, John." It was all sliding into hell in front of her eyes, and she needed him as much as any of them did... except Delenn, still clinging to the hope that her outrageous risk in following him to Z'Ha'Dum had not been in vain. After everything, she couldn't believe it might come to leaving him immobile and hooked up to a monitor while they fought out the remaining days of this war without him. And then there was Earth to deal with... and as Human as Delenn had become, none of them could ask her to lead them in that battle.

Damn it, they needed John and they needed him soon. Preferably now and especially for Delenn's sake. And for his baby - oh God, the baby. How was Delenn going to cope? Not to mention everything that seemed to come with it now. She had nothing left on Minbar, and Earth was hardly going to welcome her with open arms...

It struck her that she was thinking as if he were already dead. And she was pretty sure it wasn't all pessimism talking.

Oh, shit.

Was it really that bad? She wondered where Marcus had secreted the latest bottle of vodka he'd procured for her, and if he might be averse to sharing the rest of it this early in the evening. After a long moment of consideration, it became a serious thought: she reached for her link, about to call his quarters when it chirped under her hand. She sighed heavily, biting back a growl.

"Yes?" She was supposed to be off duty, for God's sake, at least for a few hours! "What is it?"

Corwin's voice came through clearly on the other end of the link.

"*Commander? There's a message for you.*" He paused for a second, obviously trying to keep the mixed anticipation from his tone. "*It's from MedLab.*"

Delenn turned around from the bed in her small room, now neatly made and looking, she imagined, exactly as it had when she had first arrived. Nothing had been left behind - she had brought few belongings here anyway, and what she did have was now neatly packed into a small bag to return to her quarters. She picked up the hairbrush from the low bedside table and leaned briefly against the bed to finish that last task, tidying the loose curls that insisted on falling across her shoulders. She was almost finished when her hearing, MedLab being quiet now that the main shift was over, alerted her to a presence at the door. She looked up, surprised to see Susan Ivanova there and still in uniform from what had undoubtedly been a long day's work.

"Susan." She smiled, hoping it seemed warm rather than tired, and ran the brush once more through her hair to finish. "Is it not a little late for visiting?"

Ivanova shrugged lightly, the hint of a smile on her own lips. "They told me you were still here. I thought you might have gone by now, but luckily not."

Delenn smiled, slipping the hairbrush inside her carryall. "I was just getting ready to return to my quarters." She closed the bag and took a deep breath before looking up, then the cool professional once more. "Was there something I could do for you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. It's good I caught you." Delenn looked politely interested and Ivanova allowed herself the luxury of that smile now. "I've got something for you to see," she explained as Delenn pushed gracefully away from the bed and smoothed her robe, casting her a curious gaze in return.

"Of course, Commander. Please."

"After you." Ivanova gestured for her to leave the room, following on closely behind and ignoring her enquiring expression. Delenn didn't recognise the route they took: a little surprising, given the amount of time she had spent in MedLab in past weeks, but then she had never realised just how many corridors there could be within the facility. She had not been escorted to the more out-of-the-way areas before, either, which was definitely where they were headed now. A wave of hope slowly overtook her confusion, even though she knew they had passed what she needed to see any number of corridors before...

This new room was small, but relatively bare; a thin book lay on a small bedside table, illuminated by a soft light that drowned out the blinking of those monitors that remained silently working on the other side of the bed. Delenn, however, was looking not at the surroundings but straight at the bed, tears of joyous relief standing out in her eyes as the lone occupant of the room turned his head to look at her.

"Hey, hon."

Her voice shook, barely able to stand as the relief washed over her and she all but raced to the bed. "John?"

He smiled weakly, his voice rasping from disuse. "Bet I look like hell."

She grasped his hand in both of hers, willing back her tears of relief and smiling gently back into his eyes.

"Moderately." She reached out to touch his face gently, a kind of wonder in her own features. "Oh, Valen... I thought I'd lost you again. I was so frightened..."

"I know. But I'm okay, Delenn. Look at me." He lifted her chin slowly with a slightly stiff movement of one hand. "I'm gonna be fine, I promise." He had to take a breath then, but it seemed smoother than a moment ago as he smiled privately into her eyes. "And as soon as they let me out of here, we're gonna go get that ring, okay?"

She smiled back, pulling his hand gently to her face. "I would like that."

"Good." He smiled once more, lovingly into her eyes, before glancing over her shoulder with a weak grin. "Hey, Susan."

Ivanova grinned. "Looking good, John."

"Better than I've been for a while," he admitted, frowning slightly as she came closer. "You don't look too great, though..."

Ivanova scowled half-seriously, approaching the other side of the bed. "Speak for yourself," she retorted with a wide grin. He chuckled hoarsely.

"Probably am. Tell me you're at least holding things together out there."

She sidestepped the question, knowing he wouldn't be surprised. "They're going to be a hell of a lot better when I tell them all you're awake and talking again."

"They're gonna be happy about that?" He almost laughed at the notion, but it came out as little more than a dry cough before he sucked in a breath through the oxygen tubes that fed into his nose. Delenn's hand tightened around his, alarm crossing her face: he laid his free hand atop hers, quickly reassuring her.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Just a little rough right now." Another pause, another breath but calmer as he squeezed her fingers. "Stephen was here before you, said I'd get a little out of breath for a while. Long drop," he added dryly. A reluctantly amused smile tugged at her lips, reminding herself again that he was right about that much at least - and that to get even this far alive was more than any miracle. But he was here, touching her and speaking to her, and at least the worst was past.

"I hear you got a pretty good ride, though," Ivanova retorted to his comment. He glanced back at Delenn, smiling tenderly at the reminder.

"More than one, Susan."

Ivanova shot he and Delenn a look at that. "Gave the rest of us a good run around for that, too," she reminded them both with a mock scowl. "If you ever do that to me again, John..."

Sheridan coughed quietly, catching his breath. "Believe me, not gonna happen." He looked at Delenn. "Is it?"

"No." She flashed him a soft smile. "As long as I am sure you will not cause such trouble again, of course."

He laughed again, taking in another deep suck of breath from the oxygen tubes. Ivanova frowned at the painful sound that effort made, patting his arm and stepping back from the bed.

"We should let you get some rest." Both of them looked about to protest then; she just glared at him and looked back at Delenn. "He's still not well. If he's going to get better he's gonna need time to rest - and no work," she added with a black scowl at her CO. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes sir."

"You'd better get used to saying that," she retorted smartly. "Because until Stephen tells me you are fit to do otherwise, you hereby turn over command of this station to me. Is that understood?"

A wry smile touched his pale lips, his voice low but managing amused. "Anyone but you, Susan, and I'd kick ass for that."

She arched an eyebrow: he gave a stiff chuckle, glancing warmly at Delenn. "Okay, anyone but you two. And try to keep her in line, okay?"

Delenn smiled - humor at least meant he was healing now, she supposed. "I will do what I can," she promised solemnly. Her eyes met his, and they sparkled with relief at his jovial mood. He smiled and squeezed her hand.

"I'm gonna be fine, Delenn. Honest. Give me a few days bed rest and some painkillers and I'll be as good as new in no time."

"In about three weeks, actually." Ivanova shrugged at his sudden angry stare. "Doctor's orders. Or do we have to strap you down?"

"Ivanova-"

"John." Delenn's gentle but firm voice cut him off as she turned to look at his exec. "May we have a few minutes?"

Ivanova gave her a look: she matched it with an earnest gaze, and the other woman relaxed carefully with a nod. "Sure. Just get him to rest, okay?" She jabbed a finger at Sheridan. "You're lucky to be alive, mister. Don't start taking it for granted."

He watched her go, noticing with a little healthy trepidation that Delenn waited for them to be alone before speaking; that never boded well, especially for any determination he might have been storing up. It tended to crumble when Delenn got personal - and when she looked at him like that, and spoke in that tone of voice...

"John..."

He cut in quickly, wanting to reassure her. "Delenn, listen to me. I'll be fine-"

"No." Her eyes were haunted for a moment then, pain filling them. "You have not seen what I saw. What I watched you go through to bring you back here. You can't understand..." She paused, quiet for a beat as she swallowed hard. "I almost lost you. If that happens again..."

"It's not going to happen. Delenn?" He touched her other hand, pulling it into his to hold both tightly. "You hear me? It's not going to happen. I'm here for the long haul now."

She didn't look convinced: he sighed, about to try again, but her soft voice stopped him then.

"John, please. For me." She looked earnestly into his eyes, slipping her hands free to cover his with a gentle, careful touch. "It was so hard for me to get you back. Everyone here has made such great sacrifices for you... if anything happened to you now, when we could prevent it..." Her eyes deepened with that soft look that was worse than all the sobbing in the world and he sighed inwardly, knowing he'd lost this battle the instant she walked through that door.

"Okay, okay. I promise. Three weeks of bed rest - but not one minute more. And I want you in here every day," he added firmly as an afterthought. She smiled.

"I have been and always will be." She leaned over and kissed him tenderly, caressing his cheek as she looked down at him. "Now you should rest. I will stay and watch for as long as I can."

He gave her a small smile of mock defeat. "Okay." There was quiet for a few moments then, his eyes drifting shut, and she could tell easily that he was infinitely more tired than he tried to appear. "Want you to rest, too, though. You're sleeping for two now..."

She smiled warmly, that absent touch she seemed to have developed coming to settle on her tender abdomen. "I will rest when you are sleeping. Hmm?"

"You never fight fair," he teased in a lazy tone. She smiled and kissed his hand.

"I know. Sleep now."

He seemed not to have heard her, eyes still closed: she sat back carefully into the chair, watching him, until the silence was broken with a quiet word.

"Delenn?"

"Yes?"

He opened his eyes again. "The three nights..."

She frowned lightly at him, a little frustrated. "Yes?"

"Does this count?"

The frown became a soft smile.

"Go to sleep, John."

He grinned playfully, the memory of such teasing on their last night clear in his eyes. "Only if you catch me."

"The bed is flat," she reminded him with a touch of amusement. His hand covered hers again, fingers slipping between her own.

"I don't need a bed to fall, Delenn. Or for you to help me up again." His gaze was deep and clear, his eyes filled with thanks and love for her. "I never wanted her back, you know. Not for a second."

"I know." Her voice was quiet, eyes downcast for a moment before she looked up again and smiled softly. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine now."

"Hmm." His eyes drifted closed, his fingers squeezing hers; her confidence seemed to reassure him and moments later he was sleeping lightly, one hand still holding on tightly to hers. Delenn smiled at the peaceful look on his face now, gently smoothing his hair and letting her free hand linger over his sleeping features.

She could do this. He would soon be well again, and soon everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

"I had a visitor today."

Delenn gave her fiance a curious glance, setting down the thick folder of reports she had brought for him to read. Life in MedLab was hardly stimulating, and since she seemed to be the only one who understood that enough to slip past Franklin's all-too-numerous restrictions it had fallen to her to become his messenger in this last week of confinement.

"Oh?" Anything official would surely have come through her, but she was never surprised by the occasional over-zealous Ambassador that 'needed' desperately to speak to Sheridan even in his still weakened state. "Was it anything important?"

"No idea. I was asleep when he came by."

There was something very, very odd about his voice, she noticed with a touch of confusion. Something that sounded-

"Lennier." She spoke his name quietly, terrified suddenly of her own knowledge that it was the truth. "Lennier... was here?"

"That nurse of yours came in to tell me. She didn't know what he wanted, but he didn't look too happy to be here." He raised his eyebrows in question, even though his eyes said he knew the answers. "You didn't send him, then."

She looked down at her hands. "No."

"He came on his own, I guess." He flipped open the folder, started to shuffle the reports.

"It would seem so." Her fingers laced together, her grip tight as she stared at them pressed into her lap.

"You don't know what he wanted?" Another shuffle, pulling out a select few papers and setting them aside.

"No." She closed her eyes to avoid looking up at him.

"Oh." His tone was carefully conversational, his eyebrows raised just slightly as he scanned the first report in line. "I thought maybe he'd have mentioned it to you."

"No." She paused and opened her eyes, the white skin of her knuckles matching the sharp tension she felt in her chest. "We have not spoken."

"So I hear." He flicked a glance at her, and she could do nothing but meet his eyes. The tension sucked in on itself, became a sharp ache in her heart and a stinging sensation behind her eyes as she held back the pain from him. He picked up the folder again without looking, one hand flipping it open as the other tidied his papers back inside and closed it. A deep breath echoed in lights on the monitor as he went silent, placing the folder to his other side with exaggerated care. Then he was looking at her again, and her resistance was melting as easily as it always did when she looked at the man she loved, the man she had risked everything for.

"What's going on, Delenn?"

She couldn't tell him. She had thought she could, had imagined the words a thousand times in her mind in the darkness since that first night, but she couldn't find them again with him there. How could she do that - tell him how she had betrayed her people, abandoned her customs and traditions, made herself outcast and pariah for one simple night with him? She could hardly expect him to understand the depth of her sin, but how could she try to explain it when she knew how much it would hurt them both for him to know?

She was taking too long, and he knew something was wrong; he put his hand on both of hers, squeezing her aching fingers. She tensed, feeling his own reaction to that and looking up again to meet a deep, sudden frown.

"Tell me. Delenn." He pulled her left hand free, his own grasp assertively stronger than even the previous day. "Something's up and I want to know. Now tell me."

Even her own breathing sounded painful, her voice unable to rise above a terse whisper. "I don't know how."

"Try," he returned quietly. She felt tears burning her eyes, feeling the pain as she pulled in a deep breath and tried to find the words.

"Lennier... he is not... happy. With me," she added after a moment. Sheridan frowned.

"Why not? Because..."

"Yes." She didn't want him to try and understand. She would just tell him, and then she would go. She didn't think she could bear seeing the hurt and betrayal in his eyes the way she had with Lennier, knowing that this time it was her fault alone and she could do nothing to take it away. "Because he knows that I am... that we were... intimate." She looked down. "Before we should have been."

He looked confused. "I don't get it. Was someone keeping a diary?"

"I should have been." His comment had been almost amused, but his eyes darkened as he registered just how serious she had made it.

"What does that mean?" She went quiet and he scowled. "I'm getting sick of games, Delenn. Have we done something wrong in all this?"

She didn't want to answer that. Such a simple, simple question with such a terribly complicated answer... it hadn't been wrong, she didn't want it to be wrong, but everything outside the safety of his arms said otherwise. She knew already that news had reached her clan of their relationship, and it could be any time now that they sent someone to inform her of her dishonor. The Minbari on station still knew nothing, thank Valen, but it could not stay that way forever and to tell him of that... how could she? To let him know that this time, when he could walk beside her again and the looks of disgust followed her it would be because of their love and their one expression of it?

"There is something." She stayed silent, knowing he would take that as affirmation. "Is it us?"

"Yes." She ignored the tears that blinded her eyes, keeping her gaze away from his to hide them. "Among my people, it is considered... sinful... to become so intimate with someone before the rituals of joining are completed. It is a great disgrace to the caste and clan, and a personal..." She swallowed stiffly. "A public dishonor."

"Public?" His eyes narrowed. "How, exactly? And how public?"

Delenn looked away, her voice shaking. "I am considered... the word is mal'cra." She pulled her hand from his, clasping her palms together tightly to force her voice steady. "Outcast."

"Outcast." His voice was stony - with anger or simply shock she couldn't tell and didn't want to know. "Both of you?"

Sobs welled in her throat at the awful thought and she choked them back, nodding quickly and not trusting the tears to stay inside if she spoke to that dark, agonised look in his eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, for some small comfort in the face of his anger and hurt and betrayal. Was this what it felt like to tear someone's heart apart? To watch love and anger at war in a single soul and see anger win? Because it was winning, at least the first battle, and it hurt more than she had ever thought possible to do that to him.

"Why in God's name didn't you tell me, Delenn?!"

"I wanted you." She could barely hold in the tears now. "John, I wanted you so badly... I didn't know if we would have time, if the rituals could be completed before something happened to one of us..." She had been right about that, at least, for all the good that had come of it. Would things have happened this way if they had not been together, if Kosh had not been able to attain that connection with her through him? If they had never had that one night, those few hours before the nightmare began, would he even be alive now? Or would she have lost him forever, for the sake of a few rituals yet to be completed?

"You should have told me." His voice grated with pain, his tone biting into her even though the resentment was trying to hold back. "You should have let me have that choice too, Delenn. I deserved that much, didn't I?"

"I knew what you would say-"

"Damn right you know what I would've said!" His eyes blazed, and knowing the fury would be fleeting made it no less painful to see it thrown at her again. "This isn't something that goes away, Delenn! It's not as simple as wanting to sleep with someone, even with Humans - there's a whole other life to be considered here!"

"I didn't know!" She clasped her hands to her chest, biting her lip to keep from sobbing. "I didn't know it would happen, John, please... I didn't think it could..."

"But throwing away your own life would have been okay? Not bothering to tell me what would happen to you would have been okay?!"

"Yes!" She could feel the anger than burned in her own words, but when he stared at her then in shock and deep, terrible hurt she felt helpless to use it. "No, no..." She shook her head as he continued to wait, trying to make sense of her own whirling thoughts. "I don't know - I didn't think of it that way. I only wanted us to be together..."

"It could have waited, Delenn. We could have done this properly, the way it should have been."

"I didn't want that." How could he not see that was true? Couldn't he remember? "We had so little time, John... I wanted us to have something-"

"And what about my say?" She looked away then but he carried on, angry beyond his ability to stay rational now that he knew. Bad enough that her people hated him, but to just - just throw her life away like that... "Did you even think about what matters to me, Delenn? About how much you matter to me, how much..." He shook his head angrily in disbelief and looked down at her hands, clasped over her belly; his voice was quiet and cold and harder than stone. "Is there anything else I should know? Any other decisions you decided you should make alone?"

That hurt. She could see his remorse even in the next instant as he realised his words, but by then the pain was all she could feel. The tears slid silently down her face as she stood up; he reached out for her but she was already too far from the bed, her own sobs and pounding headache drowning out his voice as he tried to call her back.

"Delenn, I'm sorry-"

She ran quickly from the room.

She had done it. She hadn't meant to leave that way, for everything to come out so harsh and cold, but when he had said those things... had she been foolish in thinking that he wouldn't hold that mistake against her? Perhaps she had, she realised. Perhaps she had been wrong in thinking he could forgive something so deep so easily... or was it just that this was too similar for him to believe she had not meant to make that same mistake again? She hadn't meant for this to affect him, and that at least she knew was too thoughtless to ever be true. Of course it would affect him to be the instrument of her disgrace, even if she had invited it and it was she who had made him an unwitting part of it. It had been beyond foolish to think that he would just accept her ignoring what custom required of their relationship and allow her to 'throw her life away'... and she should have known John would put it that way, the way she should have seen it herself before. To her it was only half a life, now, but John loved all of her - why had she thought he would be happy to see this happen to her, even if it was by choice?

She had run almost all the way to her quarters before she realised she had not even bothered to take the transport tube that stood right outside MedLab. To be still meant she would start to think again, to replay everything in her head and feel the tears restart, and when that happened she would simply curl up and cry.

She picked up her pace, trying to move fast enough that no one would see her face as she turned the last corner to her quarters and fumbled for her identicard. The doors opened on blissfully darkened quarters; she slipped inside, her back hitting the wall as she tipped her head back, hugging herself tightly and sobbing into the darkness.

"Captain?"

The voice interrupting his self-recrimination was purposefully cheerful in that infuriating medical fashion; Sheridan sighed heavily and dragged his head up from the pillows. Much as he wanted to get up and run through the corridors, to be able to pull Delenn back to him and hold her and tell her he hadn't meant it, it seemed all he was able to do in looking toward the door right now. That nurse was there - Megan, the one Delenn was always so pleased with. God, was it that kind of time already? He'd only been staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, he knew, although they seemed like hours with Delenn's tearful face hovering in his thoughts.

He nodded tiredly as Megan held up the usual set of medications - mostly to keep the pain at a dull ache for the moment, he knew, which was somewhat ironic since he couldn't feel anything except his own regret and resentment right now. She went about the task in pretty much silence, for which he was more than grateful - the last thing he needed right now was someone asking how Delenn was feeling, which seemed to happen a lot on the rare occasions when she wasn't at his side these days.

Like now.

The injector pressed against his skin, cool for a second, and he lay back into the pillow again as she checked the monitors and gave him a light smile.

God, he wanted that to be Delenn smiling at him now.

The darkness had enveloped her, warmed her, kept her quiet and thoughtless for hours now, but it was no longer silent. She had little interest in who could be calling her private quarters - if John had spoken to anyone it was most likely Ivanova, and there was always the slim possibility that it was Lennier...

But then, the small thin package on her breakfast bar was a more than gentle reminder that it was likely to be someone else entirely.

She lifted her head slowly, the blinking screen casting a bluish light across the room in front of her as she looked toward the kitchen again. The message was a standard diplomatic packet wrapped with typical Minbari efficiency, but she had no doubt of what was enclosed inside. It had been a week now, after all, and if Lennier had not informed them then she had no doubt there was someone else who had completed the unenviable task for him. Her clan could be very efficient that way.

The sound was insistent: Delenn stood up carefully, wiping roughly at the dried tears on her face and hoping she looked at least presentable enough that her caller would not ask too many questions. She had an awful idea of who they might select for this task, and she had no wish to speak with either choice in her present state. If it were not now, however, she knew it would only be another time and if she were unlucky, a personal visit. Delenn sighed and straightened her robe, squaring her shoulders.

"Yes?"

The message blinked on.

//Greetings, Delenn.//

The image was there, now: she took a deep breath, calming herself. At least it was not Callenn; she had half expected him to be the one to do this personally, but it was some small blessing that he obviously considered his duty done in sending official notice of her disgrace. Now, however, she was forced to complete what had to be done at the worst possible time, with one of her oldest friends who would no doubt count among her deserters before the day was done.

//Hello, Mayan.//

The pale woman on the screen hesitated, looking distinctly unnerved by her expected task. //I was asked to speak with you on behalf of our clan, Delenn.// She looked down, pausing before continuing. //I am to inform you of... of your...//

"It's all right, Mayan." She managed a smile, deliberately speaking the reassurance in English rather than their native tongue. "I know of their decision. And it is just like Callenn to choose you for this," she added with a sour frown. Seeing her friend's obvious discomfort she sighed, smoothing out the front of her robe to afford herself an excuse for looking away. "I am sorry, Mayan. I know neither one of us would wish it this way, but there is little choice in the matter now."

Mayan's half-smile was sympathetic, and a little pitying; there was no doubt that she had spoken with Lennier, Delenn realised, and even if he understood her feelings then Mayan had not been informed of them.

"Your mother sends her regrets to you," she said softly. Delenn wondered how it was possible for such a quiet, gentle tone to tear so sharply at her heart. Regrets? A child, let alone a grandchild was more of a gift than many Minbari could hope for... were regrets all the blessings they saw fit to bestow on her now? No joy, no happiness for the gift she of all Minbari had been destined never to have - only cold regret and a few uncomfortable words from the one friend who would consent to speak with her again now.

"There was no other message?" she asked in a quiet voice. Mayan's careful smile faded, her eyes already shadowed with pain for this duty.

"No other. The Sisters are still in prayer from the anniversary of Valeria's blessed appearance, and I do not think she saw fit to say much more."

Valeria's appearance... an ironic excuse, Delenn realised with sadness, knowing that the angelic being would never repeat the stunning feat her mother was still now celebrating. Even more deeply ironic that she had been the final witness to his true appearance, and yet his most devoted Sister could spare no time or even kindness for her now. Would she be pleased at all to know that her blessed deity had given her grandchild at least the chance of a happy life, or would the only answer be more regrets that the baby would be born at all? For Delenn now, knowing the answer in her heart made it all the better to be forbidden to ask. Callenn's blunt notice sealing her fate only confirmed her family's indifference now.

"Was there anyone else?" She was certain it was a waste of questioning, but perhaps someone might see past their own prejudice long enough...

"No," Mayan informed her softly. At least it pained her to do this, if no other, but for that Delenn could not truly make herself grateful.

"No one else spoke to you before this?"

"No one else." The discomfort in her stiff posture was obvious, not wanting to break such detailed news of the judgment. "Callenn has told the clan what happened. He did not want this for you, Delenn," she insisted earnestly at Delenn's softly derisive look. "He cares for you as much as any other, but there was nothing else he could do. To take a mate without the proper rituals, and that he is Human - you know the elders could not stand by and allow it to happen. There would be outrage among the clan..." She paused, her voice lowered as if the words themselves were shameful. "And to bear the Starkiller's child..."

"His name is John Sheridan." Delenn's voice spat with sudden, protective anger at the use of such an epithet from someone she considered a friend - her closest friend, for years, before this lonely destiny had taken her so far from home. "He will be my husband, and he is a good man, Mayan. The least you could do is speak his name."

The other woman looked down, that smile of sympathetic regret touching her lips again. "Of course, Delenn. Forgive me, but Callenn informed us-"

"What Callenn believes and what is truly correct are rarely the same thing," she cut in with some heat. There had never been love lost between herself and that particular clan elder, despite their blood relationship being closer than many among such a large family. "But he does as tradition requires of him, as always."

"He could do nothing else, Delenn. For what you have done..." She paused, steadying herself for a moment to calm her voice. "I have no wish to argue this with you. I only hoped to understand why... to know what could have changed you so much to abandon your life for them. For him," and although she tried to hide it her suppressed reaction to Sheridan was more than obvious.

"This has changed me, Mayan." One hand touched her hair, the other gesturing vaguely to the room around her. "My life here. The destiny I share with John means more to both of us than anything we have alone." Not a lie, she reminded herself; only a belief she hoped still held true. "I did not want such a life for our child, but I would rather this than to have nothing of John at all." Mayan seemed unconvinced, but she was hardly surprised. "I love him, Mayan, and I have done so for very much longer than Callenn or my mother or any of our clan would believe. We have a life here, together, even if there is nothing else for us at home anymore. It will be enough," she assured her friend firmly. It will have to be, was the private thought that she pushed away. Mayan did not see it, thank Valen... and to only add to the pain, Delenn could hardly decide if that were a good thing now. Mayan was obviously trying to hide her own emotions as well, the minutes since her features had appeared seeming endless in the otherwise darkened room. There was silence for an awkward moment; Mayan seemed to shift uncomfortably, steepling her fingers with more concentration than her lifelong friend had ever seen in those eyes.

"Mayan..."

"I should go now." The words were quiet and apologetic. Delenn forced a smile, hoping it might be understanding even if it were agony inside.

"Of course." She tipped her head slightly in acquiescence. "I'm sure there are many things which require my attention as well. I should not keep you too long."

Mayan nodded absently... almost reluctantly, it seemed.

"Are you..." She trailed off for a moment and paused, carefully folding her hands before looking up with a softer tone and an honest sadness in her eyes. "Will you be all right, Delenn?"

"I think so." Hurt and guilt flashed into those eyes then, and she dredged up the last of that smile from behind the pain to reassure her friend just once more. "I will be fine, Mayan. Truly. To be Human is not so bad, despite all that Callenn may tell you." She tried to look amused, or at least hopeful. "And if you ever pass this way again, perhaps it would not be too much for you to examine his presumptions for yourself?"

Mayan smiled; very slightly and sadly, but it was a beginning at least. "I will remember, if we ever cross paths again." Her hands closed tightly in the image of the triluminary, and Delenn felt a tearful smile come to her lips as Mayan afforded her a deep bow. "Valen go with you, Entil'zha."

The tears slipped down her cheek again at the reverence and warmth in that farewell; she answered the bow and looked up to see Mayan smiling just a little, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And with you, Mayan," she returned in a whisper. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Delenn." And the screen went blank once more.

She was growing to hate that unit, she realised as she stumbled to the couch in a numb daze. And if bad news should be in threes, as John sometimes teased her, then she had one more use for it before she could rest easily here again. Already things seemed different than before; Callenn's package was still there, unopened and waiting for her to acknowledge the decision of her clan, and the room was once more swathed in darkness but it was no longer blissful and warm as it had been. Now it was cold and hard, and filled with that silence that was too quiet even to break with noise. She was almost afraid to speak, even to breathe, longing for John's arms to come out of the silence and wrap around her, that strong embrace to keep them all safe and warm and make everything all right again. It would be, in at least some fashion, if she could just hold onto him and know that they had a chance to make things right together. But after what had happened... she had no doubt that anger and pain could fade, as it almost always did, but she didn't know now whether their trust would fade with it. And what could they have if that was gone?

The thought of such loss brought Lennier's face to her mind again. She wondered what he could have wanted, visiting John so late - and now, of all times? He would have known John was awake, of course, but he had not even been to see her since that day in MedLab, and she had no idea what he might want of her fiance. To see the one who had enticed her to give up so much of her heritage, perhaps? Perhaps he looked different now, the man who had one day been his leader and the next his mentor's lover? She could imagine so, knowing Lennier as she did; he had been her friend, her anchor for almost three years now, and it was almost as painful to lose him to this as it was to feel so uncertain with John. So many losses in her life, each just as deep in its own way and too many that haunted her now. And if John might become the last of them, if he could not forgive her this time... as much as Mayan's words ripped at her heart, the thought of losing John's trust in her was even more than she could bear. How foolish she had been to think that it would be easy for them now, just because they were together...

Her body had given in weeks before to the pain gnawing at her soul, but she had always forced herself to stay strong - because she was Minbari, because that was the way things were done and because it was easier to do so than to face the agony still locked within her own mind. Outside she could hide it, hide the fear and pain and helplessness behind the strength she built for their cause but in here, in the darkness with Mayan's voice still loud in her ears, there was finally nowhere left to run to. She felt numb, the anguish and fear overwhelming everything; she tried in vain to drag her breathing under control, feeling the tears come again and covering her face as if to hold them in for just a few seconds longer. She was Delenn, she would be strong - she had to be...

"Oh, Valen." The words came out as a choked whisper between sobs as she collapsed to the floor, wrapping her arms around her belly to cradle the tiny, heartbreaking miracle growing there and rocking softly in the darkness. "Please, Valen, help me..."