Chapter Text
The Calling of My Heart (Moments of Transition gapfiller)
by julifolo
It had been a matter of curiosity. Neroon chuckled silently as he negotiated the ancient corridors. Who could have thought that a child's rebellious stubbornness more than thirty cycles before would have such importance? He had been curious, he had wanted to see. It mattered not that he was too young to participate. It mattered not that he must have seen the ritual in many previous lives. He wanted to see in his youth, not wait until he was old. In that earlier life, he had seen something. Something right. Could it have been the forging? That would be presumption, to claim even to have seen it done. But something that had called from that life to this. In the small way that the unity of many small right actions could change a culture. Therefore he had found a way to enter the night before. He had not been found. From his hiding place he saw the temple priests doing their work, heard their words to each other. During the ceremony he had watched from above. In the years since, he had learned more, read the histories of this place, learned secrets. Unlike his childhood adventure, this time he slipped in easily.
Earlier, he had been walking outside, angry at the destruction. This city, less than an hour from the capital, was still intact. No buildings destroyed, no blood spilled. It could well have been deserted. Everyone cowering, even the warriors. It is good to see shame, the damage might not be too great. He felt more anger at what he had seen of Tuzinor.
He'd seen other warriors, walking with a swagger, as Shakiri was, as he was forcing himself to walk (honor stained by the shame of the deed & the lie), as the crew of Shakiri's ship walked. Earlier still he had been walking this forced arrogance, protecting himself as he'd tried to find a solution –- and then Delenn had contacted him, having a plan.
Her plan was bold and dangerous, Neroon thought with almost religious awe as he worked at the controls, maneuvered through security measures, deftly changing settings. Proving Shakiri's weakness in itself won't work, but it would be a first step. Delenn's plan will stop matters for a time, she will have everyone's attention and perhaps enough madness will be shocked away. Perhaps.
Neroon shook aside the doubt. Delenn knew what she was doing, he had to believe in that. Otherwise, all is madness. Soon he would return to Shakiri's ship, consult with him and then tell Delenn the 'instructions' for her caste's surrender. Neroon chuckled again at the absurdity.
+++
Shakiri's ship was in orbit above. A warrior who would not say his name had spoken beligerantly when Lennier had tried to contact the flagship. The warrior asked many questions about what communications equipment was unbroken in the temple that was Delenn's headquarters.
It was Neroon, not Shakiri, that would deign to speak to her, and the aide demanded a large crowd behind her -- Rathenn and all others to hear. It would be orders, not negotiation. He had wanted the temple ceremony screen so Neroon would be shown twice life size. He eventually accepted it was ruined. A smaller conference screen would be used. He said Delenn had a quarter hour to gather the witnesses and then, several minutes late, the same aide appeared on that screen, checked how many were gathered behind her, then there was more time to wait.
Delenn stood there, silent, facing the screen. When Neroon appeared his words were few and abrupt, then he ended the transmission without waiting for her acknowledgement. "The struggle between us has set this course," he had said coldly as he gave her Shakiri's orders. That meant all was as they planned. If he had said "Blood has made a new day," it would have meant he had failed; that the surrender would probably not be at the Temple of Varenni, and there would have been much more to do, much more dangerous to do. Their next meeting would not be until days later or longer, and without warning. The plan was working, why then did she tremble?
For the rest, he had said what would happen next. Shakiri would send a shuttle to bring her and her aide to the surrender site. She could not use her own vehicle, even if any could still fly. The surrender would be broadcast and take place at the Temple of Varenni. She did not fear that Neroon would betray her. He believed in the rightness in their cause. She remembered his words, how he compared her and Shakiri. He used words about victory, not balance.
The ground became quicksand under her feet. The future was colored in blood. There were words to say to the others. They needed reassurance, though she was shaken. In their own distress they did not see hers. As quickly as she could she went to the room she used as her office.
"Delenn?" Lennier asked.
"I must meditate," Delenn answered, keeping him from entering with her. With a touch she ensured the door could not be opened. In meditation, disconnecting from her body, she searched, trying to hear what her core, her soul, was trying to tell her.
Shakiri's eyes -- she had never met him, or deigned to notice -- she saw Shakiri's eyes. In that timeless space she was shown the future. "Liar" he said. "You tricked me." And the peace was broken.
In the midst of that understanding the Wheel itself spoke, in the voice of Angels. I am sacred. I am the sun. I cannot be commanded. The only gift it had to give was death, the gate opened. A soul taken in purity, all dishonors burned away, a journey to the next destination. There were dangerous traps on either side. A great cost, but great reward.
She could not use the Starfire Wheel lightly, for a trick, for a lie. She felt shame and fear at her presumption. To call the fire, someone must die, or the outcome worse, better to have left it silent. Too late now.
John -- She knew him, since first she looked into his soul and he into hers. We have before, we will again. She had done wrong, death was the atonement. She could explain, she could settle her affairs -- what she could do before the dawn -- but she must obey.
Her first message was to him. "I love you, John. Please forgive me. I did not intend this, but I can see no other way." The recording would show her surroundings as indistinct, dark masses of crystal and stone. The face he would see was haggard, hurting, eyes filled with the horrors she had seen. She made her voice strong, determined to end what should have never been. "I have spoken to Neroon," she said. "He agrees to my proposal. 'Shakiri is a fool,' he says, 'You can endure the fire long enough,' he says. 'You can prove yourself stronger,' he says. He says that he is outside of his caste in this, that it is the Religious Caste that is right, but his words are the words of a warrior. He speaks of victory."
She would triumph. But the cost. Her heart was pierced by sudden pain and longing. She was not yet reconciled to what she knew she must do. She turned from the lens, lest he see, her hand hovering on the pause. If there was a gap in the recording he would not know how long. So little time left, she had to show she was hiding nothing from him. "In despair, I call for strength -- " she began under her breath, speaking the minbari words in a muttered rush until she was stable enough to internalize the prayer.
She could felt his concern -- his grief, his support. She drew comfort even with the pain of guilt. He would understand. In another time and place there would be joy. She spoke to him as if he stood before him. Stone, metal and distance--the trifling barriers physical existence melted away. Soul and soul, they were bound.
She drew in a breath, continuing her explanation. "I agreed I would step out of the circle after Shakiri proves his cowardice. I would claim victory -- " She shook her head in denial. "It would be only for a little while. Shakiri and his caste would hate me for tricking them, and their hate would fester and there would be war again and more death." The words were so fast they tumbled one over the other, her accent thick. "More innocents killed while we the leaders stood by each blaming the other -- " Her voice softly quivered. "I could not live, not even in your love, if that is the price of living.
"I, too, was a fool, to think I had power enough to solve this, selfish enough to be certain I would return. I could leave the fire -- prove Shakiri the coward -- I could live." The temptation was retreating. "No one would know. What would I prove? Only that I am more reckless, ready to dance closer to death before I run away. I cannot prove I am willing to die without dying. To give my people peace I can keep nothing for myself."
There was the sound of a distant explosion. Did some still fight? Were warriors giving another warning not to try? Another war battled behind her eyes: the walls were locking around her and there was no way out. Her hand spasmed; the machine stopped recording. She wanted to be with him longer, and could not. She could not stop the tears that were coming; she did not want his last sight of her to be of weeping.
For a moment, she let herself grieve. She took the next crystal: Neroon. "Neroon, dear friend. I have treated you badly." Her haughty pride, that her cast was better than his. "I have broken my promise. Believe me that I told you no lie. I see now that what we had planned would have been a fool's gamble we would have bitterly lost. It would have been to the hurt of our people, not for the people's good. There is no way to get word to you. I have no choice but to walk this path to the end. In the morning it will be done."
As they had discussed, the Council needed to be reformed, the balance restored. In her message to the reformed council she address them as if it was three and three and three. "Rebuild our world. Rebuild your future."
+++
"Rathenn -- "
It took her three times to get past the first sentence. She was too weary to begin again. She told him she was assured of his support. "I am undone. The fire will be a relief, the new beginning."
She pulled herself out of the trance, unsure of how long she had been elsewhere. Did she want to say that? She let it be. "It is too much. I cannot speak it again. Show this to Neroon and he will show what I said to him. Build you the future well, all together."
She closed that message and immediately opened another. "Lennier."
She pulled herself back to center. What could she say to him? She would ask him to stand by. He would do his duty. She could not even think that he would do otherwise. The repercussions were too horrible. "You know this must be. My death has ended the killing. As you have served me you will continue to serve. You now have access to my political diaries and notes. Sheridan should be given the recent updates; he will need your help to continue what we began. You have and you will bring yourself great honor."
+++
Minbari status had changed, it wasn't good news. Sheridan went directly to the war room. The main Stellarcom beacon from Minbar was back online, under Warrior Caste control. They announced there would be a broadcast in eight Earth hours.
The message was repeated twice, then the announcer was replaced with a static text message. The incoming channel remained closed.
"They're doing all they can to be sure the whole galaxy sees."
Sheridan's response was the quarantine the channel, restricting it to his office and the war room area. Using the Advisory council office staff, he had the three local caste leaders invited to view the broadcast in a conference room there. Security was put on high alert.
He didn't want an incident. He knew Delenn needed him. This far away, what could he do? She needed him, this was what he could do to help.
It was troubling the Warrior Caste made the announcement;. They may have won on Minbar, they might have Delenn in their control. He wouldn't cede the station to them by letting them send orders to the minbari on station. If there was to be a resistance, it would need a home.
+++
The night had been full, speaking to one small group after another. She had been surprised how little time it had taken to realize her error and speak her messages. The necessity to hold the truce had prevented her from taking any time to feel her loss. Everyone wanted the attacks to stop, no one wanted to lay down in submission. She said over and over that the first task had to be to stop the killings. As long as they were killing there could be no talking. If they destroyed everything then they would have won nothing. Even in their madness they understood that. "When they focus on the next thing, then we will have a chance."
With her insistence, they agreed. The explosions had become smaller and then seemed to stop. "We must hear what is said tomorrow before we make our next decisions. We know the hour. Rest if you can, then everyone must gather where they can watch."
She had told Lennier she needed meditation more than rest. He said the floor in front of the door was well enough, and he'd guard as well as rest, for the building was quiet.
In meditation she gained strength, put her heart at peace, which was a long struggle to achieve. Coming back to the present, she stood. It was only a matter of hours now. The rod lay at the comm unit. John. She was not ready to leave him, there was more she needed to say. She opened up the rod and removed the crystal addressed to Sheridan.
Yesterday, in her uncertainty, she had felt him close, closer than now. Their souls had touched, but his conscious would not remember it clearly. Better to let him see the raw emotion, painful as it was, he would be better able to understand.
Now he would see her face without pain; she was ready to die. It was a feeling of numbed exultation. He must have felt the same way when he called down the fire at Z'ha'dum. This time there would be no Lorien waiting to return her life to her. The Gods had gone beyond.
"I have left instructions for Lennier. Do not let him take the blame for this. He will obey. Then he will curse himself for obeying. I did not know what to say to him. No words. 'Understanding is not required -- ' "
Her head tilted and the thought ended. Having no solution, she moved on."John. Holder of my love, holder of my dreams. Soulmate. What we have achieved, what we have left to do-- I am sorry. I must give it all to you alone to build, to guard, to see. I will wait for you -- these memories, this love, this promise -- in the place where no shadows fall. My spirit will stay near to you all the days of your life.
"Farewell, my beloved."
She looked at him, called the image to her mind. It was difficult. Slowly she keyed the recording to stop. She replaced the crystal into the rod. The memory of him was already retreating to the future/past. All that was transient was retreating. She had to let go, let her soul speak, listen to its wisdom. She could not have reached this high position without cycles of learning before. Shakiri had squandered his wisdom; in his next life he would be cast low. The fire would be welcome.
+++
Ivanova did not agree with Sheridan's plan. "You can't interfere."
"The hell."
"John."
His answer was a tight-jawed stare that would have kept anyone else from speaking.
"This is dangerous."
"Delenn needs me."
"What right to we have?"
"Delenn did it first. She broke their Council to save us from Clark."
"That's different."
"How?"
"We had to fight the shadows."
"We have to make the future," he answered, face darkening again. "Together. Or we all fall."
+++
The trip to the Temple of Varenni had been silent. Two unnamed warriors watched Delenn and Lennier, guarding the single pilot. She kept her eyes on the door behind them, holding the rod on her lap. Once they had landed the pilot exited the cabin, locking the door behind him. Then the guards exited and they followed them. They had arrived with more that sufficient time to prepare, and were shown to an empty room to wait. Finally, Delenn was able to give the rod to Lennier.
+++
By this time, Sheridan had been in the conference room for over an hour. Cole had gotten there earlier, making preparations. The signal arriving from Minbar would be in their languages. As a courtesy to his invited guests, Sheridan wouldn't change that. Because of the possible explosive situation, Sheridan would need to know what was going on, and he didn't want to rely on purely automated translation. That system would be inserting Interlac subtitles at bottom of screen. Cole, at the back with the security guards, looked like he was a tech running that system. But Sheridan and the other humans had earplugs so Cole could give quiet commentary.
The Religious and Worker Caste representatives arrived together some minutes before the scheduled start of the broadcast. The Warrior Caste representative got there just in time, bringing a second person. Sheridan said nothing, but waved for another chair to be put at the table. He sat in the middle seat with Ivanova on his left and the first two on his right. The warriors sat on the other side of of Ivanova. "We've just received the two minute announcement."
The screen came online, it showed a large circular room with a flat area at center, rough on the edges, and a high gallery that looked down on the central space. The large scale was shown by the size of the figures who watched from the gallery and the warrior that now strode into the center. "That's Shakiri," Cole voice said in the earphones. They saw the scene from above and behind. The camera seemed to be at the level of the gallery, the view somewhat magnified.
Shakiri's manner was arrogant. Delenn, for the religious caste, surrendered. Those were the words on the screen. Sharkiri spoke of consequences, but then Delenn interrupted, addressing those who watched, saying they "knew this place."
"This is dangerous, captain," Cole commented quietly. He paused, choosing words. "She's tricked him." The political equation was easy to see. Delenn had contrived to let Shakiri and the Warrior Caste give her the largest possible audience. "He's going to be angry. She does need you." That was his shorthand to say Sheridan was right to call this conference.
On the translation screen, the discussion continued. Back on Minbar, Delenn was talking about leaders and war and who died in wars. The translator program had difficulty with the ritual words and archaic meanings. Words, whole sentences would flicker and switch as later speech was analyzed and Cole refined the corrections. Having a mic rod at his cheek would have been too obvious, but Sheridan wished he could prompt Cole to start explaining or make guesses; he needed context as well as accuracy. He resisted the urge to gesture at him.
Delenn raised her hand high and a column of light appeared at the center and the wheel spoke in a wordless roar. Neroon's manipulation to the controls had not been detected. He could afford to make a slight addition that would not trip security measures, unlike any subtraction which would have been flagged. There were many who would have moved on the temple floor since he'd sneaked in, making preparation. Several may have raised their arms for whatever reason: none but Delenn would have had dark human hair.
"That's her doing somehow," Cole's voice whispered. "The others are surprised." As the light pulsed and roared, Delenn continued to speak. Cole increased the translation display to three lines of shifting text. The program treated a stressed minbari phrase, “sacrifice,” as a euphemism. It wasn't.
In the earphones, there was a cut-off oath. Cole didn't like the sound of that. It would be unbearably cruel to say that aloud, if the implication was true. He couldn't, didn't want to believe it.
She spoke of how wars of the past were ended, how leadership was determined. By the word she chose, the level of sacrifice she described was permanent, not hardship.
Delenn stepped into the light. Her soul had been burning these past two days. The pain meant nothing to her.
She spoke as a voice of power. “Valen said, 'Will you follow me into fire?' ... Will you?”
“That's Neroon, next to Shakiri,” Cole narrated to the other humans. “The other is Lennier, he looks surprised. So does Neroon.”
“And Shakiri,” Sheridan said softly, abandoning his pretense of neutrality. The warriors sitting to his right didn't appear to notice. On the other side, the worker may have. The translation program was having problems. Each line was a few words only, between question marks. All the minbari were leaning forward, trying to hear words within the sounds.
“What are they saying?” Sheridan said, voice under tight control.
“She challenged Shakiri to enter,” Cole managed. “Before, I couldn't hear what to Lennier.” A few more words flickered on the screen supplied by the program. In the middle was “people” then “waiting.” “That was Neroon. He also challenges Shakiri.”
The warrior leader entered the light. He instantly wilted while Delen continued to stand tall. He seemed to be begging. Delenn's voice sounded above the roar, the words on the screen were “tear” and “apart.”
With a yell, Shakiri threw himself out of the burning light onto the floor.
“Oh, hell,” Cole repeated. Delenn's arms were raised to the light. Neroon was standing next to Lennier. “She's not leaving.”
Ivanova gasped, Sheridan glanced toward the minbari religious representative sitting next to him whose eyes were closed in prayer, and his heart clenched. “Her words mean nothing without her death.” It was a near echo to what Lennier told Neroon, though in a different language.
“What?” Ivanova forgot the others in the room, then remembered. “No,” she said in a strangled voice, holding back a scream.
+++
Delenn floated in the light, she was released. She had entered the circle and asked Shakiri do the same. Neroon had to goad him, reminding him of those that watched. When he entered, he had begged that they could share power, that there were other ways. She replied he should have considered those instead of tearing apart their world. Now was her time to heal that injury.
Lennier held the rod, the data crystals, messages for Sheridan, for Neroon, for him, for their caste, for the reformed Council. That other hand held the rest of her obligations. This life was over. She would continue in the actions of others. Of all that she was, only the fire remained.
Her mind was on the future. This was not death, this was the beginning of her next life. In that life, she would atone for the errors of this. She hoped she would have wisdom enough not to cause all the death she had caused. The pain she had caused. The wheel spoke again, beyond music. It burned and it welcomed. She tried to keep her arms lifted.
Sheridan's eyes closed, his head lowered. Recorders on, he didn't have to make himself watch this, he lost himself to the pain. He didn't need to see to feel the fire.
Lennier, obeying, stayed rooted. Neroon stared, trying to understand. She stays because she knows Shakiri will never trust? As she burned, it was if the Wheel had spoke to Neroon in an echo of the warning it had given to Delenn in her meditation. It was not quite an understanding that she had changed her plan for being wrong. Rather, he understood that only a death could stop the trap of Shakiri's anger.
He screamed when Delenn crumpled to the ground, making his decision in that instant. He ran forward and pushed into the circle of light. The death will not be hers, he vowed as he lifted her up and into Lennier's waiting arms. He claimed the sacrifice for himself.
+++
There was a sudden agony of pain. Delenn felt strong arms, swift movement, hard cold rock beneath, the veil of consciousness returned. Someone behind her, protective hands. Lennier. The burning light was before her, she could barely see. She looked toward the source of the voice.
“I was born Warrior Caste!” Neroon called loudly, and in pain. “But I see now, the calling of my heart is Religious! The war is over! Listen to her! Listen -- ” His voice called loudly ... and was silenced.
Death had come; it was not hers. It should have been hers. She fell back. Inside, her soul grieved, aching for the release that would not be. She diminished. Life returned. The veil covered her again.
If she could wept, she would have wept. Injured as she was she could not see, now that the pillar of fire had gone.
Neroon --
Neroon, dear friend.
He would not hear the words she had spoken to him. He had gone beyond.
She was not worthy of this sacrifice. She had done wrong and wrong again. She should have seen to the unity of her people when the war with the Shadows had ended. She had let herself be distracted. Others had paid the price.
What were his thoughts in the last moments of his life? What were the words his heart told him that led him to trade his life for mine? There will be no message to ease my grief. There will be no message to ease the grief of his family.
+++
In the conference room it took a while to understand what happened. Ivanova shook Sheridan out of his trance when Neroon bent to lift Delenn up and out. The other humans were relieved, but Sheridan stayed tense.
The warriors left first. Cole left his post and went to the other guests. They went toward the door, Sheridan pulled his link off his hand and slapped it down in front of Ivanova. She tried to hold him as he stood.
He shook loose but the three in minbari robes were already out of the room.
+++
On Minbar, two religious caste stepped away from others still staring at a screen that faded to blackness. One told the other, “The killing must end.”
In another city, one warrior whispered to their companion whose head was bowed in shame, “The killing must end.”
Elsewhere, workers walked toward their city square, waited in fear.
+++
Halfway to the temple Sheridan could no longer pretend he was seeing glimpses of who he followed. He briefly regretted giving his link to Ivanova. But no, he already was planning trespass. He could have turned the link off -- Ivanova could override that, and she would. He could not risk the violation of that shrill summons in a holy place. He went to the temple Delenn would go to. Where he needed to be, though he'd never been inside.
Crystal, light. Shimmering white. It was a deceptively open space. He didn't think the temple on Minbar this emulated was roofless, but this space was. The walls were tall, cutting off and directing where one could look. He was here somewhere, he knew. Different people, minbari and rangers, sitting silently. When he found Cole, den'bock opened on the ground before him, he sat next to him, tried to mimic his position as best he could. He said something in minbari. Sheridan just looked at the ground in front of him, silent. What he'd said might have meant something akin to “Be quiet, then.” It wasn't close to <Go away,> a piece of minbari that Sheridan did know. Or what Cole had said wasn't that particular version of “Go away.” He stayed there. He needed Delenn, this was as close as he could get to her. Now and then he heard incomprehensible words, it didn't matter. Lennier had carried her away from the fire and put her on the ground. He thought he had seen her arm move. After Neroon's death, more figures had come into the center. This isn't over yet. He had no way to know. He prayed for her. He had to believe the others around him did the same.
+++
A long time later, he was outside the door of the temple, Cole was still inside. He found the nearest Babcom to page Ivanova. He couldn't parse her words beyond they were angry.
“I still may lose her,” he replied. “Shakiri's alive, she's injured.” He said he was going to his office and closed the transmission. She was already there, wordlessly angry at both him and Delenn. He didn't retain whatever it was she said. Probably about the general status of the station's minbari residents.
“I have to be prepared ... “ he began.
The words hung there, the sentence unfinished.
+++
There had been rock beneath her, now it was a hospital bed. Her skin no longer burned. She felt bandages, ointments repairing her skin.
Half conscious, she wondered if Lennier had kept the rod, if he had listened to the messages. He would need to know what to do next, and she was unable to say. Sheridan would not hear what she told him. She was glad of that.
+++
A day passed, and another day. Shortly after Sheridan entered his office his link beeped. “What?” he asked.
It was a meeting reminder. They were to be briefed by someone from Proxima. His way out had been dangerous and circuitous; the news would be old but still useful. The food situation was getting worse, Clark was threatening. Sheridan was worried about his sister and her family, though that wasn’t something he could ask about.
Reports also came from Minbar via human rangers; they were tentative. The peace was guarded. They believed Delenn still lived, though injured. Broken infrastructure was being repaired or new laid down in replacement. Everyone was silent.
Shakiri went into hiding. No one cared if he was alive or dead. People searched for those missing. Memorial rituals were performed for those who had died, especially for Neroon. The warrior caste did not want to give him up -- he had brought honor while their former leader had brought shame. The religious cast memorials were careful, making no claims but giving thanks for the peace.
+++
In the next days, Sheridan tried to follow channels and he spoke politely, but everyone on Minbar had much to do and they didn't need to be bothered by a human's questions. Finally he got through to Lennier, who set up the channel to Delenn's room. It was audio only.
He was in C&C, headset, spoke into the mike. The conversation was private on his end; it wouldn't be on Minbar. He would need to speak carefully. “Delenn?”
“John?” The voice was weak, but hers. “Is something wrong?”
The absurdity of the question nearly pushed him over the edge. “No. No,” he answered. “After what I saw,” his voice lowered to a whisper. “I had to hear your voice.”
“Yes, John.”
There was another pause, not due to technical difficulties. “It's never half measures with you, is it?”
“No.” Her voice seemed weak from grief, the weight of her burden.
He couldn't figure out what to say. She must be hurting more than him right now, above and beyond her injuries, having her life saved at the cost of another. “I'm sorry about Neroon.”
“Thank you.”
“What now?” He wanted her home. Then he shook his head. That was the problem, wasn't it? She was “home.” He was where he needed to be ... And they were apart. What was worse than seeing Delenn in a hospital bed -- again -- was it happening and him not being able to be there.
“We rebuild,” she answered. The next words were minbari, all he could tell was how tired she was saying them. When he didn't answer her question, she continued, “I ... I must rest.”
“I understand,” he said with a guilty tone. “I'm all right now. Stay safe.”
+++
Sheridan's words echoed in her dreams both comfort and disquiet. How could she find her center? Grief and guilt confused her paths, and they only multiplied. Step by step was the only way. Neroon had seen clearly. In dream and fogged waking she searched.
Then, later, she sat in the hospital garden which showed no war shadow. Lennier was elsewhere. The unfocused shades of green suggested paths that merged instead of multiplied. Her thoughts moved toward meditation. It was a warrior city, of course, the hospital now divided and mostly occupied by wounded religious and workers. The garden was an unspecified area. Someone of Neroon's clan approached, her face mostly shadowed by a large hooded cape. She did not say her name. It was obviously the woman's intention to catch her unprepared – a pale victory compared to her family's bitter loss.
Delenn was shamed she did not know Neroon's family well enough to recognize her. She did not know if she was sister, aunt, mother or cousin. She did not think he left a wife. This was another failure: what she could have thought to do when she was healing in her secure ward. Too late now. “You do not belong here,” the visitor said. “The killing is stopped. It would have stopped be you living or dead. Why did Neroon give his life and deny our world his wisdom? To what purpose? For what punishment? Thief. Our world is diminished twice over.”
“I know. I also grieve.”
She would not accept her sympathy. “I want you gone. You have his life in you, you were the one to put sacrifice in his mind. You are a constant reminder. I honor your intended sacrifice. What happens now is not your concern.”
+++
Delenn repeated those words to Rathenn, explaining that what she must do was to be decisive but to also pass action away from herself.
“I would taint Neroon's sacrifice to in any way be perceived as taking any gain. I will reform the Council and then leave.”
Rather than speak, he said nothing.
+++
It was another public broadcast from Minbar. Sheridan watched it, translated, from his office. The channel from Minbar, both out and ingoing, had been unlocked some days before. He wondered what kind of referral network she had reached into, what directories of regional councils suggested these peoples’ names. He wondered about the effect of clans and reincarnation. Was it a type of consensus rather than voting? Minbari government dealings were opaque even to the highest level diplomats from other homeworlds. It seemed this would remove temptation for religious to punish warriors. That had to be a good thing. He counted as she called names and felt a rush of relief when he reached nine, and none of the names were hers. He told himself he should feel guilt for his selfish possessiveness, but he saw only confidence in her face and posture. He was sure she would be coming home.
Then, in Proxima system, there was a massacre of refugee ships. The Earth Civil War had reached full boil.
More than two weeks later, the battle of Proxima had been won. Sheridan was in White Star 2, with many other white stars and an increasing number of EA destroyers. When -- and if -- he would return to Babylon 5 was an open question.
At the end of her status report, Ivanova told him Delenn was finished with her work on Minbar and was returning to the station.
His answering smile was gentle. “Good.”