April 2261



Chapter 1



The Universe continues to explore the unrest of civilizations throughout its vast expanse. Minbar and Earth, millions of light years apart, struggle with similar yet different circumstances. Philosophical, deadly wars are eminent for both planets. For one final night, Babylon 5 remains a safe haven for the savior of each race.

When morning draws near, Ambassador Delenn will depart for Minbar in an attempt to rebuild the Grey Council and deliver her planet from civil war. At the same time, Captain John Sheridan will continue his fight to free Earth from a treacherous, dictatorial leader. But tonight, the couple will spend one last evening together, neither knowing when they will meet again.



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John Sheridan leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa in his quarters, stretching out his long legs, in a conscious attempt to relax. Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to squelch the image that formed in his mind – the last time he spoke to Delenn. Unfortunately, the image was still ingrained into the forefront of his memory. He drew a ragged breath, trying not to think about her departure for Minbar in the morning. He asked her to stay but, in the end, agreed she was right; she could make a difference for the future of her people. Well, at least, she had agreed to have dinner and spend the evening with him. She had given him two hours to ready himself, while she completed the remainder of her ambassadorial duties.

Looking around the room, John inhaled the savory aroma of dinner in the oven and scrutinized the dimmed lights, the lit long burning candles placed throughout the living area, and the clock indicating fifteen minutes remaining until her arrival. He'd already showered, changed into casual clothes, and busied himself with cleaning the areas that had been neglected for the past several days. Now, with nothing left to do, he leaned forward and retrieved the old book of poetry from its new home on his coffee table. Due to years of contemplation and struggle by its owner, the pages were worn into a natural bookmark. As he leafed through the volume, it opened to the one poem that had most haunted his youth. The poem that caused the young military student the most problems, as well as the lowest mark he had ever received at the Academy. He now marveled at the simple poem and thoroughly grasped the abstruse meaning of the authors' unprecedented tribute to love and cosmic mystery.

The poem was very old, and its meaning remained a mystery to John until he read it again a few days ago. He grappled with these verses for months in his English classes at the academy many years ago, never understanding the authors' meaning. The piece had haunted him for years until the book was misplaced, seemingly never to be seen again. Then, like the miraculous return of a message in a bottle cast out to sea, the leather bound book had returned several days ago, in a shipment from his father. After reading the poem again, he finally grasped the deeper undertones. The lyrics reminded him of Delenn, his feelings for her, and the fears he tried to hide when she was near.

He needed to find a way to share his feelings with Delenn. He remembered part of his conversation with Reverend Dexter, several months ago. In the midst of the shadow war, the Reverend compared the Captain to the troubled officers of the Minbari War – the ones who had isolated themselves due to their self-imposed burden of responsibility. Such officers were unwilling or unable to express their concerns or fears and became consumed with worry and self doubt. John smiled as he recalled the Reverend's analogy for an overburdened mental state – an overflowing worry tank – and the solution – communication. Expressing your thoughts, fears, and desires might not change reality, but it would unburden the soul . . . if only a little. This conversation held a special place in John's heart, because it led him to take the next step in his relationship with Delenn. After the Reverend left that night, John continued to sit in the dim light of his office reflecting on his current situation. Yes . . . his worry tank had been full, and yes . . . it would be nice just to have the company. And the only company he wanted was Delenn. That night began his journey toward Delenn and her heart, as well as their first kiss. After that, he consciously opened up to her a little more every day.

Maybe tonight he could let her into his soul a little more. He needed her to understand how much she meant to him. True, he continued to participate in her rituals, and she agreed to his engagement, never removing the diamond solitaire that symbolized his vow of commitment. Seeing his ring on her finger always brought a smile to his face and a feeling of euphoria deep within his soul. But that wasn't enough. Now she was going into a deadly situation, with no guarantee of return, and his own future was uncertain. Therefore, he vowed to make this a perfect evening. It would, he hoped, provide a sustaining memory for each of them in their greatest time of need . . . the future.

Suddenly, he remembered something that he had forgotten to take care of before their uninterrupted evening together could begin. He stood and walked toward the Babcom system. "Sheridan to C and C," he stated with authority, as he patiently waited for the computer to follow his command.

"C and C," Commander Ivanova announced as the Babcom system activated, bringing her picture on the screen. "Can I help you, Captain?"

"Ivanova, I just wanted to check in and see how things are going."

"Let me transfer this call to your office. Hold on a minute."

While waiting for Ivanova to switch monitors, he tapped his foot and tried to run his hands through his hair in frustration. He chuckled when he touched the side of his head. Funny how he kept forgetting that he had cut off all his hair. 'Old habits die hard.' He straightened his posture and assumed a neutral expression when he noticed Ivanova had appeared back on the screen.

"John, everything is status quo and quiet. Too quiet. Makes me wonder what's gonna happen next."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Listen, since it's so quiet, I'll be incommunicado until morning, barring any emergencies."

Ivanova raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why? What's going on?"

He could tell she was trying to hide her amusement. "Oh hell . . . nothing's wrong, Commander." He knew if he didn't remain calm, his exasperation would show through. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Susan, I just need the night off, okay? I want to have a peaceful dinner and relax for once. Aren't you the one who's always telling me to take a break?"

"Yes," she affirmed, with a nod.

"Well, I'm taking one! Don't call me unless it's absolutely necessary. I trust your judgment . . . so handle everything that you can. Understand?" He hoped his authoritative tone wouldn't be undermined by the pleading note in his voice. He knew that Susan would eventually remember the flight clearance that Lennier had delivered for Delenn's departure in the morning. In fact, he could see understanding dawn across her confused features as she began to smile.

"Oh . . . Now I get it." To his chagrin, she continued tormenting him. "Will you be alone or are you having company?"

He stared in shock as she gave a smug wink. "Commander, that's none of your business," he declared, then broke the stern façade with a laugh. He knew when he was caught, and Susan never missed anything. "Look, just don't interrupt us unless you have to, okay?"

"Sure, John. Have a great evening. Tell Delenn I said to have a safe trip." As he glared at her, she laughed. "C and C out," she ordered, severing the connection.

John turned away from the screen knowing he would have to pay back this favor or endure endless torture. Ivanova could be ruthless. Good thing they were friends, or he might be worried.

Looking around the room, he checked the clock. Only five minutes until Delenn's arrival. Any amount of torture would be worth spending time with Delenn. An evening with his Delenn, his fiancé, his future, his life was worth anything.

John walked over to the table and inspected the dinner candles. The tapers, long and slender, would burn faster than the other candles, and remained unlit. Deciding the time was right, he lit the candles. "Perfect."

Delenn was always on time unless she notified him otherwise, so he took the dinner out of the oven, placed it on the table, and filled the glasses with her favorite juice. Memories of his last disastrous attempt at cooking flooded his mind, and he was glad he had ordered take-out. Ordering from the Fresh Air Restaurant was becoming a habit whenever Delenn visited. The chef, Pierre, was an expert in the different races and cultures of the station knowing perfectly which foods would be compatible and pleasing for the couple. And most importantly, Pierre knew how to keep quiet.

As the hour struck, the door chime sounded, signaling Delenn's arrival. John smiled and commanded, "Come." The door cycled open, revealing the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. "Hello, Delenn."

As Delenn entered, she tilted her head in greeting. "Hello, John."

He reached out for her hands as he bent forward to kiss her cheek. "I'm glad you agreed to have dinner with me. I missed you." He pulled back to gaze into her lovely face.

Delenn stretched her arms around his neck as he grabbed her waist, pulling her toward him for a more appropriate welcome home greeting. He brushed his lips across hers lightly at first, but the kiss soon turned intense, laced with passion and love. All too soon, he broke the kiss and drew her closer, wishing he never had to let go. "I really did miss you, Delenn," he whispered, his voice raspy with feeling.

Delenn moved back just a little. Looking deep within his eyes, she could see the intensity of his feelings. His smoky, hazel eyes reflected love, admiration, passion, and a small hint of insecurity. If she stared long enough, surely she would see the depths of his soul. Wondering what he saw in her own eyes, she placed her hand on the side of his face and smiled. "And I missed you." Deciding to lighten the mood, she took his hand and brought him to the table. "Dinner looks and smells wonderful."

"Good. Let's sit down and eat before it gets cold." Pulling out the chair, he helped her sit at the table.

"This is very good," she professed, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Please tell Pierre that it was exceptional and I enjoyed it very much."

"You know me too well." He chuckled ruefully.

"Maybe so." She smiled back at him.

Dinner continued, interspersed by quiet conversation about station gossip and events that had transpired during her absence. Both participants steered clear of depressing topics, such as, impending conflicts, Mr. Garibaldi's behavior, and her eminent departure.

As dinner came to a close, John shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "So . . . did you finish all you duties?"

"Yes," she answered. Concentrating on the remainder of her meal, she knew he would continue to ask indirect questions instead of being forthright. He still avoided discussing personal topics. She hoped he would soon feel more comfortable, realizing he could ask her anything.

With a soft, repentant sigh, he continued with the pretense of eating dinner, pushing the food around his plate. After a few moments of silence, he glanced up at her. "Do you have everything packed and ready to go?"

"Yes," she confirmed, holding back an amused chuckle at his discomfiture.

"Have your flight plans been cleared with Susan?" he went on, obviously dodging the question he really wanted to ask. He licked his lips and gulped down the remainder of his juice.

The evening was much too short for this game, so she decided to end it. "Yes." She rose from the table and walked toward the living area. Turning back toward him, she tilted her head in contemplation. "John . . . is there something you want to ask me?" She watched as his expression changed from nonchalance to apprehension, as he rose from his chair. Speaking quietly, she tried to assuage his fears. "We have known each other for a very long time, John. Do you not know by now that you can ask me anything?"

Normally calm and composed, even in the heat of battle, John felt almost overcome with nervousness, and an anxious knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He walked slowly toward Delenn, offering his hand and gently pulled her down to relax on the sofa beside him. Deep cleansing breaths had been known to purify the soul, so why did he still feel so . . . apprehensive? His anxiety could only be due to his unasked question – how long could she stay with him tonight?

He knew she was leaving in the morning – but he wanted to spend every possible moment with her until then. Taking another deep breath, he forged ahead. "Yes, Delenn. We have known each other for a very long time, but sometimes I don't know what's okay to ask or how to ask it. I . . . I only wanted to know how long until you had to return to your quarters and prepare for your trip. This will be our last night together for a while. I just didn't want you to leave yet." Giving her his best pleading puppy-dog face, he murmured, "I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

She had suspected this question was uppermost on his mind. She only wanted him to be honest. Glad that he had finally spoken plainly, she decided, as the Earth saying goes, to put him out of his misery, but not before teasing him a little. "Well, let me see . . ." She pretended to ponder while she tapped her finger against her chin. "My official duties are finished . . . Lennier has delivered my flight plans to Susan . . . I have everything prepared for my departure . . . but you already know these things."

He looked toward her with an expression that asked forgiveness. "I know," he whispered, lowering his head.

She reached out, placing her finger under his chin, raising his head so she could gaze into his eyes. "John, you can always ask or tell me anything. I will always understand and forgive you," she assured him. Playfully, she smiled, glanced upward, and then assumed a contemplative expression again. "I believe that I am completely prepared for my departure. The only item on my agenda is . . . to spend the evening with you. I can stay as long as you like."

"Really?" he asked, sounding breathless. His eyes glowed, and his face lit up with the most handsome smile she had seen in a long while. With the preceding war and the impending conflicts of the future, he had not smiled much lately. She was glad to be the cause of his happiness.

"Really!" She mimicked his delight. "I am at your disposal."

He reached across the couch pulling her into a hug. "I'm so glad," he whispered. "If I had my way, you'd never leave." Moving back, he looked into her eyes. "You just let me know when you're ready to leave, okay? And I'll walk you back to your quarters."

"Consider it done." She smiled and placed a feather light kiss on his cheek.

He gently cupped her own cheek in his hand, and she turned her head and kissed his palm. John had such beautiful hands, with long, tapering, sensitive fingers. Hands that held both strength and tenderness, hands that capably performed so many tasks.

With that last thought, her intrinsic sense of order took over, and she glanced toward the table and the remnants of their meal. "Let me clear things away."

"No!" He shook his head. "Look, you relax while I do it. I won't be but a minute. Okay?"

"Are you sure you do not want me to help?"

"No. I have a system. Sit back, relax, and get comfortable. I'll be right back." With obvious reluctance, he stood up and walked toward the table.

While he was busy with the dishes, Delenn took the opportunity to observe him. She grinned at his method of cleaning. John's 'system' consisted of throwing everything either in the trash or the sink for later disposal. Looking around the room, she noticed that he had tidied up his living quarters, presumably, in the last two hours. Suddenly, she noticed an unfamiliar book on the table. She picked it up, glancing at the writing displayed on the open page. She tried to read the passage, but her knowledge of the language was limited. She studied the language, history, and beliefs of Earth in her spare time, but a few of these words were beyond her level of understanding.

John finished the light cleaning, hoping she would ignore his haphazard approach, and turned toward her. He saw that she was engrossed in his favorite poem. He watched as her expression changed from understanding to confusion. He loved the way her forehead scrunched together when she concentrated, trying to understand another cultural difference.

He returned to his place on the couch, close beside her. "Did you enjoy the poem?"

She looked up into his face, acknowledging her appreciation and bewilderment. "Yes, very much. But there is a great deal I do not understand. Will you read it to me and explain the meanings behind it?" She noticed he looked dazed at her request. "Is there something wrong? You do not have to explain if you do not wish."

He shook his head. "No . . . it's okay. I was just . . . lost in a memory. It's a long story that you probably don't want to hear. But I'll gladly read the poem to you."

She handed him the book. "About your long story . . . I would very much like to hear it. I enjoy hearing your memories and learning about your life." She touched his hand. "We do have all night."

"Yes, we do," he agreed. "Well, if you really want to hear it . . ." He shrugged and waited for her reply.

"Of course. Please continue." She nodded and snuggled next to him.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his side. Resting the book on his leg, he hesitated for a moment. Yes, he could tell her anything. Perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity to disclose his deepest passions and fears.

Thinking back, he could remember certain events like they had happened yesterday. "Let me see . . . I found this book back when I was in my third year at the Academy. I was twenty-one years old and thought I ruled the world. My friends and I were high on life and thought nothing could go wrong. Well, that was before we entered Professor Thoreau's poetry class." He laughed at the memory. "We used to call him Old Man Thoreau. Meanest teacher we ever had. Anyway, we had to take this mandatory poetry class. Even today, I don't understand why. Something about making us more culturally rounded."

She chuckled. "That sounds like a wise assessment."

"Ha, ha." He smirked and rolled his eyes, then resumed his tale. "The class wasn't as bad as we thought it would be. Some of the stuff they made us read was . . . okay. But the worst was the final exam. We each chose a style of poetry and picked a title out of a hat. Of course, I went with what I thought would be the easiest – musical poetry." He laughed at Delenn's confused expression. "Musical poetry is a poem that was written as a song and performed to music. There's not much difference between the music here on the station and the music of our ancestors. The only problem is that some bright person listed the ancient song lyrics in a book and forced unsuspecting students to read it."

Delenn smiled as his face twisted into an expression of sarcasm. "Now I understand. I can imagine what type of student you were." When he pouted, she caressed his hand, causing him to smile. "Please continue," she coaxed. "I am greatly enjoying your story."

He loved to see her face light up when she was pleased with him. And she did seem to be delighted in the conversation. Still, he hesitated. "Are you sure you want me to keep going? This is a really long tale." At her nod of approval he continued, "Well, in my youthful ignorance, I thought, how hard can it be to decipher a song? Then I got the song 'Drops of Jupiter'. I had to search several bookstores before I found a book of poetry that included it. Actually, my Dad found it. We spent a weekend visiting antique book stores looking for it. We'd just about given up when he found this book, hidden behind a shelf."

Delenn felt a rush of sympathy as she saw how his expression had turned to one of longing and fondness when he thought of his father. It had been such a long time since he had heard from his family. They were currently hiding from the Earth president, quite rightfully fearful of their safety. She turned slightly toward him, placing her hand tenderly on his chest. "Are you all right?"

He smiled but adverted his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about my folks. I miss them." The words came out slowly, haltingly, and she could hear the ache in his voice.

"I know." She frowned and shook her head. "I did not intend to bring up distressful memories tonight. I am sorry."

"No, don't be. They were all good memories. And . . . I'm glad you're here. You're the only one I want to talk to about this kind of stuff, anyway." He grasped her hand, intertwining their fingers as he leaned forward to place a butterfly kiss on her lips.

"Thank you. I am glad . . . that you are glad . . . that I am here."

John picked up the leather bound volume from where it had fallen onto the couch and ran his finger down the embossed cover. He leafed through the pages – the paper coarse and brittle under his fingers – until they naturally fell open to the correct poem. The musky smell of the yellow pages wafted into the air, reminding him of his mother's attic. "After Dad and I found this book, I spent weeks studying this poem. This was the biggest headache I had while I was in school. No matter how often I looked at it, I never understood it." He shook his head and snorted. "Old Man Thoreau was less than happy with my essay. I passed the class but failed the final. For years, this poem haunted me until I misplaced it. Lost forever . . . or so I thought."

He could see the confusion in her eyes, again. "I do not understand. If it was lost forever . . . how did you find it again?"

"While you were away, I got a package from home. Of course, it arrived really late. Dad shipped it before the embargo began. Guess it was lost in transport. The postmark was dated well over a year ago. No thanks to the postal service, but it finally arrived. There was a letter and this book. Dad said he found it in the attic and thought I might like to have it again." He smiled. "I think he hid it from me years ago. I spent too much time obsessing over the poem. So much that I thought my head was going to explode."

She laughed, remembering the time she told him his head would implode if he tried to relax. "Yes, I can see that happening."

"Oh, you! Very funny." He joined in her laughter. "I never did figure it out until a few days ago. It was, well, an epiphany. I opened the book, read the poem, and . . . finally understood."

"Now that you understand the poem, will you read it to me . . . and . . . explain the things I do not understand?" She wanted to hear his voice, to share in his newfound comprehension.

He glanced toward the clock and noticed the late hour. Hesitant to explain his feelings – to reveal so much of himself – he decided to see how much she wanted to know. "It's getting late. Are you sure you want to go into this now?" he asked, hearing the note of trepidation in his own voice.

With a gentle nod of her head, she urged him to continue. "I have no place to be until my Whitestar leaves in the morning," she stated, reaffirming her longing to spend the entire evening with him. Her pale blue eyes pleaded with him to feel her desire.

He smiled, understanding her request. Yes, she was content and intended to stay until he asked her to leave. Of course, that would never happen. If it were up to him, she would never go. But no matter what happened between them tonight, she would in fact return to her home world in the morning, departing with a dangerous objective. His heart ached at the thought of her upcoming absence. It was unfair to ask her to stay on Babylon 5 and remain safe, but he had asked her all the same – an act of panic. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Indeed, he did remember who she was . . . and what she could do. She had saved his life many times in the past, a trend that would probably continue in the future. Nevertheless, he worried about her and wanted to protect her. As any good husband would.

Husband. At that thought, he smiled as he gazed deeply into her eyes. They were mesmerizing, so expressive . . . the ancient Earth poet Shakespeare might have had Delenn in mind when he called eyes "the windows of the soul." Indeed, everything about Delenn was almost overwhelmingly beautiful to him.

But how could he tell her the depths of his feelings? This poem would provide the perfect opportunity, but he was still reluctant – and scared. Just plain scared. He tried to reassure himself – to call up the internal voice that had gotten him through everything from his first day of kindergarten through the fiercest battle. 'I might as well just jump right in. What could possibly happen? The worst is that she could think I'm a total sap. Might as well go on and get it over with.' Besides, he didn't know if he would ever see her again. Neither of them knew what lay ahead in the dark future. No, as difficult as it was to be completely open and honest about his feelings, her never knowing how he felt was an even more frightening prospect.

He reached out and grasped her delicate hands. Raising them to his lips, he placed light kisses along her knuckles. Then, gently lowering their hands, he leaned forward to kiss her full red lips. The kiss was gentle and sweet. He could easily get lost in the sensations she evoked in him – but there wasn't time for that. He pulled back, feeling a nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. "Okay. I'll read the poem. But, you have to understand that I've only come to these realizations recently. And just because I tell you my feelings, doesn't mean they're well-grounded. Do you understand?"

Still reeling from the feeling of his wonderfully soft lips on hers, she had to force herself to concentrate. She lost all capacity to think when he looked at her with those soulful eyes and kissed her with all his love. She had been staring at his soft, smooth, full lips and didn't process what he had said. Realizing he was waiting for a response, she shook her head. "No . . ." Her voice trailed off, waiting for him to explain.

"Human emotion is complex and confusing. Believe me; I know it can be difficult to understand." He paused, concentration furrowing his brow. "What I mean is that sometimes our insecurities or fears make us feel a certain way that might not be logical. We think that the emotion we are feeling in our heart is true, but if our mind takes over, it realizes that the fear is unfounded. That's not a very good explanation, but does that help?"

"Yes, I think I understand a little more. Please feel free to express yourself completely and . . . honestly. I will never judge you. You do know that, do you not? I love you and only want you to be yourself."

Her declaration of love always brought a fullness to his chest and butterflies to his stomach. He took a deep cleansing breath, calming his nerves. Smiling a little nervously, he began the controversial analogy. An explanation that she would find refreshing, troubling, or maybe a little of both. He hoped she wouldn't find it too upsetting and leave.

"This poem caused me so much trouble because I was young and inexperienced. But when I picked it up again, it was like magic. I understood what Professor Thoreau was trying to pound into our thick skulls all those years ago. The author wrote the poem, reflecting on his own experiences. But each person needs to evaluate a poem based on what they feel. Every reader has to let a poem wrap around their consciousness and create a personal awareness." He laughed self-consciously at his textbook explanation. "I guess I paid more attention in class than I thought I did. That's what our teacher was trying to tell us. But until recently, I don't think I had the right experiences to appreciate this poet." His voice barley audible, he added, "Not until I met you."

Delenn glanced at him, her face clearly portraying her confusion. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Your love, guidance, and way of looking at the universe have changed me; made me a better man. And I thank you for that."

His revelation brought a delicate smile to her face, while filling her heart with passion and desire. "You are welcome. But remember, you have done the same for me. Your love has led me to the place that I am today. Never forget . . . that I feel the same about you . . . as you do about me."

"Yeah, I know." He smiled and reached for her hand. "It's just that when I read this poem again, it reminded me of you. Of the way I feel about you and the fears I have of losing you." He knew his voice was laced with sadness.

"John, you will never lose me. I love you. Remember, we will always be together in the place where no shadows fall. We are destined for one another," she whispered, remembering that she would probably lose him first. With only twenty years left of his life, time was short. The little time that they had left should be spent together, not apart and on separate planets. One day soon, perhaps, they could live in a time without war – a time of peace, together.

Since John returned from Z'ha'dum, Delenn thought regretfully, he avoided the topic of his impending death and the changes he had undergone due to his experience. She had approached the subject earlier that day, when she told him she was returning home. She tried to explain her feelings. He listened when she told him that he needed to be dangerous to rebuild his home world. He also didn't deny that it would be easier for him to take chances and be ruthless if she were not around. No, he didn't want her to go, but he said he understood why she must. But much remained unsaid. Now, she made a silent vow to soothe his fears and reaffirm her commitment to him before she left in the morning.

"I know, Delenn. We will be together . . . always," he replied, mostly for her benefit. If anything happened to her, he wasn't sure how long he could go on living without the other half of his soul. "Remember the conversation we had in the war room earlier? Oh, I forgot. It's not a war room anymore, is it?" He was relieved that the shadow war was over, rendering the war room unnecessary; but distressed that it was now needed to provide the truth in opposition to the propaganda being spread by President Clark's regime. He chuckled when he remembered Delenn's observation that humans redecorate while the Minbari have cities that remain the same for centuries.

"No, it is not a war room anymore. It seems that you redecorated during my absence."

"Exactly. Well, Delenn," he hesitated, "when I explain this poem to you, maybe it'll address some of the questions you want answered. If it doesn't, you can ask me anything. I know I've been avoiding talking about certain things, but I feel like I'm ready now. All right?"

Her voice broke as she spoke, "That is fine, John. Please continue."

He was puzzled by her expression, and wondered what was going through her mind. Uncertain, he whispered, "Are you all right? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to become morose. That isn't what I intended for our evening together. If you'd rather do something else, I'll understand."

Taking a moment to arrange her thoughts, she briefly touched his chest. "No, it is all right, John. I did not expect this . . . but I do want to know; to understand more about your heart, mind, and soul. Remember; it is the way of things. If we are to continue with our commitment to each other, it is best that we learn all we can about one another." Her voice was strained with the tears that she wouldn't allow to flow, as she stumbled over the words. "Twenty years . . . is . . . not enough. I wish we had more time."

He looked away, realizing they shared the same apprehensions. "I know . . . and I'm sorry," he whispered. Ashamed of causing her pain and sorrow, he remembered something she said to him when he was lost in the time rift of Babylon 4. Giving him a warning from the future to carry him through the tough times ahead, she had told him to treasure the moments, to savor them for as long as he could, for they would never come back again. She was right. She was right about many things that night. He didn't take her advice about Z'ha'dum, and as a result he died there. He wouldn't fail to heed her wisdom again. He vowed to remember the things she said and to enhance their future. He just needed to make sure they had a future.

Studying John's thoughtful and somewhat sad expression, Delenn's heart ached at the change in his demeanor. She could tell he was lost in the past. Hoping to comfort and soothe him, she slid closer, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him close. He placed his head on her shoulder with a sigh and returned her embrace. The book fell to the floor, unnoticed, as she caressed the back of his head and placed a light kiss at the base of his neck. "It is all right, John. I have accepted this fate. It is just that when I found you again . . . I felt such loss. But now our paths have crossed and merged. We are to become one. We will have to find our way together. And to do this we must trust one another and reveal ourselves."

"Mmm . . ." he mumbled. This felt so right, to have her in his arms. He never wanted to let her go. He tightened his embrace, pulling her still closer, breathing in the soft scent of her hair, a fragrance that reminded him of the lilacs in his mother's garden. "There's so much I want to tell you, if I could just figure out the right words."

The mood had shifted to a place neither wanted to visit tonight – a state of sadness, loss, and pain. A silent tear traveled slowly down Delenn's cheek. "You are doing fine, John." She pulled back, deciding to confront the palpable darkness head on. She understood his heart as well as she knew her own and she knew exactly how to lighten his mood. Smiling into his cloudy features, she recited the phrase that always got his attention. "John, as you know, when Minbari become close, as we have become close . . ."

Hearing her mention the ceremonious phrase that always led to a ritual, his eyes rolled upward and he shook his head. "No, no, no, no . . . not another ritual!" He began to laugh. "Delenn, you're gonna kill me with these rituals!"

She joined in the laughter. "But . . . it is our tradition," she whined teasingly, but with tenderness. Turning serious, she decided to give him an announcement he could accept. "You will be happy to know that we are in the middle of the revelation ritual. It is called Ack'Nowl. It is used when saying goodbye or until we meet again."

He uttered the only coherent thought in his mind. "You're kidding?" He couldn't believe that they had almost finished another ritual, and he hadn't even realized it. Catching on to her ploy, he considered the ramifications and narrowed his eyes. "And just how do we finish this ritual?"

"No, I am not kidding." She smiled at his boyish phrasing. He clearly wanted to make her happy, but he couldn't hide his look of trepidation. Smiling, she decided to make it easy for him. "We have become close . . . but have yet to fully commit to one another. So, before a long period of absence, we must reveal our greatest fear and reaffirm our commitment. As we spend the evening together, we continue to . . . as you say . . . get to know one another better. There are several ways in which this ritual ends. It all depends upon which rituals have already been performed and upon the course of our conversation."

"So, we just keep talking? And when the time is perfect, you'll explain how to end the ritual. Is that right?" he deduced with eagerness, anxious to complete another ritual with ease. He would do anything as long as it didn't include an entourage of other Minbari. Privacy was definitely the key to getting through her traditions.

"Good." She nodded. "You understand. Now, let us continue with your poem. It seems that we have become distracted from our goal this evening." Her voice was wistful, as she yearned to hear his deepest thoughts and secrets. Bending forward, she retrieved the book from its resting-place on the floor. Placing it in his lap, she guided his hand to the cover. "Please read to me, John. I love to hear your voice."

TBC

Chapter 2



Unknown to all civilizations, grains of stardust weave throughout the universe, guiding all those souls who have a destiny. They dance like a butterfly that gently lands on a flower, leaving behind a light, unseen dusting of pollen. Fortunately, we all have a destiny – whether big or small, for good or evil. Therefore, we are all covered with stardust, perhaps some more than others.

If we had the foresight or ability to see the grains, they would manifest as dust floating in the sunlight on a warm summer day. If we could gaze upon star-crossed lovers with a destiny, such as John and Delenn, we would see grains of stardust lightly encompassing their entire being.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



As evening slowly passes into morning, the couple continues to explore each other's deepest thoughts, feelings, and fears, while completing the Ack'Nowl ritual. The Minbari traditional ceremony has an ending clouded in mystery for John but clearly understood and acknowledged by the depths of Delenn's soul.

During the previous hour's conversation, a somber mood settled around the room, blending with the shadows dancing on the wall. Shadows created by the flickering light of the slowly burning candles complete the almost palpable mood – one soul waiting to be unburdened, one soul willing to receive.

John settled back into the couch, contemplating the book he held in his hands. He hoped this volume could help him reveal his introspection and reflection of the past several weeks . . . the past several years. Glancing up at Delenn, he was heartened by her encouraging smile and the touch of her soft fingers caressing his hand.

"Please read to me, John," she repeated. "I would very much like to understand the epiphany you received when you read the poem again after all those years."

He glanced at the clock again, confirming the late hour. Time seemed to fly by at an increasing rate of speed, an illusion fueled by Delenn's impending flight to Minbar, which was now only a few hours away. "Are you really sure you still want to do this?" he asked, needing to confirm her commitment to spending the evening with him and discussing the sensitive material.

"Yes, I am very certain." She sighed as she took the book from his hands, opening the worn pages to the correct poem. "John, help me to understand these illusive phrases and the meanings behind the mystery."

"Okay. But you asked for it," he warned, trying to hide a nervous chuckle.

Taking the book from her hands, he let his fingers linger on hers for a long moment. Resigning to his fate, he relaxed and prepared to disclose his newfound enlightenment to the woman who held his heart. He knew this wouldn't be easy. Still, the subject matter needed to be brought out into the open, discussed, and put to rest. Revealing his feelings wasn't his strong suit, however. It was easier to bury them and pretend they didn't exist. That no longer appeared to be an option, though; Delenn could seemingly look into the depths of his soul and would continue to gently press the matter until he relented. Besides, if opening his heart would make her happy and strengthen their bond, he was willing.

Scanning the words he knew by heart, he contemplated the easiest way to provide English lessons interspersed with reflection and introspection. "Well, let's see. I guess the best thing would be for me to read you the poem in sections. I can explain the words and phrases you don't understand. Then I'll discuss the underlying meanings." He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Please remember, this will be hard for me. So much has happened in the last several weeks that we haven't had the time or the opportunity to discuss. I know I've been avoiding certain topics, but I guess this is as good a time as any to get them out in the open."

Delenn touched his cheek, drawing his attention away from the book. "I understand, John. Just as you reveal yourself, I will reveal myself. We are in this relationship – this universe – together. I will never judge you . . . only respect you for sharing yourself with me. I do understand how difficult this is for you, but it will make us stronger. Remember, I love you. Nothing you could ever do or say will change the way I feel." As if to convey with action, what she could not adequately express with words alone, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. As he started to respond, she pulled away.

"I love you, too," he responded in a husky whisper. Clearing his throat and redirecting his thoughts, he focused on the pages of the antique book, stained and yellow with age. He felt as vulnerable, as fragile, as the paper that threatened to crumble into dust if handled roughly.

"Like I said, I never could understand this poem. I couldn't get what the author meant. It drove me crazy for a lot longer than I'd like to admit." Smiling, he gazed into her beautiful eyes. Wide with curiosity, they were the color of spring, of hope, of desire. Disregarding the hot flush that crept up his cheeks, he continued, "That is until I met you. I still don't completely understand everything the writer says, but it really hit me hard when I read it again the other day. It reminded me so much of myself and the way I've been feeling lately." Placing his left arm around her shoulders, he pulled her near as he settled back into the sofa.

Delenn snuggled closer toward John's side, resting her head on his shoulder. She placed her hand on his thigh, while her eyes focused on the printed words. She sighed as she began to massage his leg. "Please continue," she whispered, when he failed to resume his narrative for several moments.

He glanced down at her hand and wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. Her soft body snuggled against him, her delicate hand on his leg, and her breath gently caressing his neck were a lethal combination. The closer they felt emotionally, the more intimate they became. Desire had long manifested itself in simple ways – a glance, a touch, a whisper. But in the last several weeks, especially since the Shan'fall ritual, these simple gestures had left him hungry for more.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, knowing he wasn't yet allowed to go where his longing led him. A ritual revolving around discovering one another's centers of pleasure – with respectful meditation, and an entourage of religious caste Minbari – had only left him frustrated and looking forward to the future.

Making himself concentrate on the present, he cleared his throat. "Hmm . . . where was I? Oh . . . right, the poem. Well, let's begin. The poem is called 'Drops of Jupiter'. It's about lost love, a search for the deeper meaning of life, and the pain of loss."

Delenn tilted her head and her mouth hardened into a frown. "I see . . ."

"No, you don't," he quickly corrected. Presumably, she thought he was referring to his lost first love, his search of Z'ha'dum, and the pain of losing his wife. "That's what it probably meant to the author, not to me," he explained. "Be patient. I'll get to the point sooner or later." He smiled, squeezing her hand to reassure her.

"It is all right, John. I will try to be patient."

A slow smile spread across his face at her attempt to pacify him. "I know you will. That's one of the things I love about you . . . your patience." He chuckled as she gave him a mock pout. "Okay, okay, on with it."

His throat was dry from nervousness, so he leaned forward to grab the glass of water he had left on the table. As he drank, he realized his lack of manners. "Would you like a glass of water?" he asked. She shook her head and smiled. He was stalling, and they both knew it.

Placing the glass back on the table, he readjusted the book in his lap. "I know you're having problems with some of the words in the poem. The funny thing is, so did I. This poem was written a very, long time ago - in the year 2000. I had to look up a few of the words myself. I hope I can remember what they all mean. The poem begins . . ."



Now that she's back in the atmosphere,

With drops of Jupiter in her hair,

She acts like summer and walks like rain,

Reminds me that there's a time to change.

Since the return of her stay on the moon,

She listens like spring and she talks like June.



He thought for a moment. "For some reason, the writer's lover decided to leave him and go on a journey of exploration. She went away to find herself, to reach new horizons, and to learn more about the universe and her place in it. The poem begins with her return. He notices her transition, and it reminds him that there's always time to change. Change is the only constant. There's always transformation, whether we want it or not."

Taking a deep breath, he continued. He knew she was going to question him soon. "While you were gone on your last two trips, I missed you . . ."

"And I missed you," she interrupted.

"I know you did. But the last time you left for Minbar, you seemed very distressed. And when you returned, you were . . . different."

At the mention of her most recent trip to her home planet, she stiffened. He knew this was a conversation she wasn't ready to have. He held her close while he caressed her arm, in an attempt to soothe her. "Please hear me out. I know that what happened when you went home was private and not to be discussed outside of the religious caste, but there were rumors. I wasn't sure if you'd return, or even if they'd let you go. I know I'll probably never understand what happened and why, but I missed you and was so glad when you came back. Anyway, when you arrived on the station . . . that's how I felt. Like you had changed."

"I know, John . . . and I am sorry," she confessed, her voice filled with sorrow, as she lowered her gaze. "I never meant to hurt you. You are right . . . I am not allowed to talk about the events that transpired or the outcome. All I can say is that I am here with you now, and I never intend to leave you. I will be with you always . . . if not here in this universe, then where no shadows fall." During her confession, silent tears rolled down her cheeks. "One day I hope we can discuss this further, but for now it must remain as it is."

John leaned forward, kissing away her tears. The glistening moisture was sweet to his lips, not salty as he expected. "I didn't mean to upset you, Delenn. I only wanted to tell you that I knew a little about why you left and that I was glad you came back to me." He brought her into a hug. "Please don't cry. You know I hate it when you cry." Trying to lighten the mood, he teased. "And if you keep this up all night, we'll never get through with this."

Apparently he succeeded in changing her state of mind. She smiled and returned his embrace. "I will try to keep my composure. I would hate to be the cause of your procrastination. You do not need any further assistance from me in your delays. You show great talent and skill."

"Ha, ha, very funny." He reached again for the book. "When you got back to our atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in your hair, I knew you had changed. You seemed more content with our relationship. And like the author's lost love, I think you now act like summer, walk like rain, listen like spring, and talk like June."

A cloud of confusion settled over Delenn's features. "I do not understand."

"You need to remember that when this was written, the only civilization Earth knew was our own. Also, we only knew of the planets in our own solar system – thus, the reference to Jupiter and Earth's moon. I think that drops of Jupiter means that you glow. Your beauty is exquisite, and when you look at me, your eyes dance." Although she remained silent, he recognized the undisguised smile in her eyes as she began to blush.

"I had a hard time trying to relate a person to seasons, weather, and months of the year. That is, until I met you. At times you act like summer. Summer is the hottest season of the year. It exudes the feeling of confidence. When I think of summer, I think of being outside, kids playing, and having fun. And it reminds me of you . . . your joy in life and wandering spirit." He thought for a moment. "You also walk like rain. You are so graceful when you move that it's like rain gliding along the surface of the ground."

John paused, as he grew increasingly embarrassed. He knew he was being mushy but hoped she didn't mind. Then she looked at him in a way that gave him the strength to continue. "I've noticed that, when you're listening to someone, you listen like spring. Spring is the time of the year when our coldest season slowly becomes warmer. It's a time of rebirth, with the new growth of plants. In winter, everything is white and gray, but when spring finally arrives, the world becomes green and colorful. When you listen to others, you really pay attention and then offer your unique perspective. You see things differently than anyone else that I have ever met. You open us up to hope and new possibilities, like a crocus breaking through the snow. Then we come to June, which is the sixth month of the year. Half the year is gone . . . it's like the difference between a pessimist and an optimist. Do you look toward the future or back to the past? I see you as an optimist, always looking toward the future."

Delenn was silent, as if she didn't know what to say. Finally she spoke, her voice cracking with emotion. "Oh, John, you are such a sweet and loving man. I don't know what to say."

"Well, that's a first," he teased.

Lightly swatting his leg, she reprimanded, "John . . ."

"I know. I'm only kidding." He laughed. "Let's get through the rest of this. Then we can talk more about how wonderful I think you are." He smiled as a hint of embarrassment crossed her face. "It continues with . . ."



Tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded?

That Heaven is overrated?

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?

One without a permanent scar?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?



"The writer wanted to know if the girl found her new adventures exciting, or did they pale in comparison to her expectations? Heaven is our euphemism for your place where no shadows fall. It also means anything that's perfect. He wanted to know if she ever reached her Heaven, and was it overrated when she got there. And he wondered if she had fallen in love with someone else – someone who didn't have a scar, whether internal or external. To me, it means, did you find what you were looking for when you returned to Minbar? Did they ask you to stay? Did you come back because you wanted to or out of obligation?"

He paused for a few moments, to let her absorb the implications of his possibly unwarranted fears. To clarify his statement, he continued, "Delenn, listen to me. I know you're here because you want to be, and not because you have to be. I can feel it every time you look at me, touch me. I don't know why, it's just sometimes . . . I feel insecure."

As Delenn started to speak, he lightly placed his finger on her lips. "Wait," he whispered. "Let me finish. You've never given me a reason to feel insecure, but when I returned from Z'ha'dum, I brought a tremendous burden with me – death. It's a permanent emotional scar across my soul – one I wish you didn't have to bear. Part of me believes that you'd be better off without me, that you should be with someone who isn't scarred for life. But the other half of me wouldn't be able to live without you. So, I feel selfish keeping you close . . ."

"No, John!" Delenn held up her hand, as if she had to interrupt. "You need not feel selfish. You have no control over this fate. It was your destiny . . . your path in the universe. Even though we will only be able to spend twenty years together, do not consider this a burden you must bear alone. This is something that we will confront together. I will always be with you, scar or no scar. It does not matter to me." Her voice steely with determination, she strengthened her pledge. "John, this is the first chance we have had to discuss Z'ha'dum. I know that there may be things you cannot discuss. But I am here for you, in whatever capacity that you need. Whether it is as your best friend, your fiancée, your wife, your lover, or your soul mate." She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Promise me, John. Promise that we will cross this bridge together and that you will trust me."

He savored the release he felt when he talked to Delenn. She always knew what he needed to hear. She was utterly honest and sincere. She didn't blame him, and she wanted to be with him. He knew he should have discussed his eminent death with her upon his return, but he didn't know how. Even thought his life was foreordained to be short, he intended to spend as much of it as he could with her. She completed him, the other half of his soul. "I promise, Delenn. I'll always trust you . . . with my life."

"All right." She nodded, and he wondered if she was remembering another time when he had spoken those same words, and meant them. "Now continue with your story."

He squeezed her hand before placing it gently back on his leg, then reached for the book and turned the page. "The next part is more of the same. The poet describes several ways in which the woman's soul grew . . ."



Now that she's back from that soul vacation,

Tracing her way through the constellation,

She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo,

Reminds me that there's room to grow.



"What is Mozart and Tae-Bo?" Delenn questioned.

"Mozart is a historical musician. A pianist and composer. At the time, people who listened to him were considered more sophisticated. Appreciating his work was a cultural definition of the upper class of society. Tae-Bo was an exercise training program that purified the body. It was eventually adapted and is now used in military exercises. Anyway, the girl continued to grow even after she returned from her soul vacation. This reminded the author that you could continue to grow every day. You just have to grow together, not apart. Just like we continue to grow closer."

He cleared his throat, knowing the next passage would help him reveal some of the events surrounding his death and rebirth into a newfound life. "When I was at Z'ha'dum, many things happened. I knew that Anna wasn't herself and that it was a trap. Once there, I knew there was no possibility of escape. So, I decided to destroy as many of the shadows as I could. I had a nuclear bomb on the Whitestar and programmed it to crash into the compound. For me, the next stanza describes what happened to me right before the crash and explosion . . ."



Now that she's back in the atmosphere,

I'm afraid that she might think of me as

Plain old Jane told a story about a man

Who was too afraid to fly, so he never did land.



"Plain old Jane, I think, refers to an elementary school book used to teach children to read. If you don't spread your wings and fly, or explore new ideas, places, or things, you will never grow or accomplish anything. And you'll never learn to land."

He didn't know how much he should reveal about his ordeal. Committed to letting her know the truth, he forged on. "Right before the Whitestar crashed, I had escaped from the room where I was being held. I didn't know where to go, but I ran anyway. Anna was chasing me, trying to convince me to turn to the side of the shadows. But I couldn't . . . I just couldn't. I came to a dead end – a balcony that looked over a dark abyss – over nothingness. I didn't know what to do. Suddenly, I heard Kosh tell me to jump. I hesitated, and he repeated the command. Since I was going to die anyway, I figured this would be a better death than to be blown up. So, I jumped."

"As I began to fall, I remembered the first night you made it rain for me . . . one of my favorite memories. I heard your voice saying that you would watch over me and catch me. I trusted you and just let myself fall. I don't know how long I floated on the air, but it felt like forever. Eventually I awoke . . . with Lorien. The time I spent with him was confusing, and I still don't understand everything that happened. I tried to make it out of the tunnels but only walked in circles. I was stuck between life and death. The choice was mine. I remember Lorien telling me I had a lot to die for, but he asked if I had anything to live for." He smiled and looked toward Delenn to gauge her reaction. Seeing her patiently waiting, he asked, "Do you know the first and only thing that came to my mind?"

"No," she admitted quietly.

"It was a name, only a name. It was your name, Delenn. You were and are the one thing I have to live for. If it weren't for you, your love and devotion, I wouldn't have returned."

Delenn bit her lip. "I did not know that your death was so complicated. I should have expected. And I am forever grateful you returned. I am not proud of my behavior after your death, but all I could think about was joining you in the places where no shadows fall. If not for Stephen, I would have. I am honored that you live for me . . . for us. As do I for you."

Overcome with emotion, John felt his throat tighten, making speech impossible. Instead, he slowly leaned toward Delenn, gently placing his lips on hers. Their lips melted together, mingling with their breath and tongues. After a few long moments, he ended the kiss, pulling her closer. While taking a slow deep breath to memorize her scent, he caressed her back. "Do you want me to continue?" His voice was strained with emotion, barely a whisper. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

"Yes, John. Please continue." Her voice was tender. "I will be here for you at the end…always."

"Okay, I'll try. But I've told you almost everything already." He released his hold and returned to his previous position on the couch. "Earlier today, in the old war room, you told me I'd changed. You said I need to be dangerous to do what lies ahead of me, and that it would be easier if you weren't here. In some ways, I disagree. It'll never be easier for me with you gone. But in other ways, I know you're right. If I'm going up against President Clark, I need to be ruthless and dangerous. Essentially, you were giving me permission to fly and promising to be here for me when I land. I want to thank you for that. Deep down, I knew what needed to be done, just not how to tell you."

"As I said before, John, I know your heart as I know my own. We are one soul together. And I will always be here for you whether you change, fly, or land. I promise." Her hand calmly closed over his, as she gazed deeply into his eyes.

He nodded. "I know you will." Again, he felt he needed to lighten the mood. "Back to the growth topic, I have a small confession to make."

"What is that?"

"There's one thing that you do that intrigues me and makes me want to change. When I watch you meditate, I sometimes think I might like to learn. I think it might relax me," he confessed with a hint of discomfort. "Maybe one day, when things quiet down, you could teach me?" He knew his eyes would betray his attempt at hiding his mischievous intent.

Eyes dancing mischievously, she joined in the fun. "I would be happy to teach you to meditate. You are right. It will help you to grow both mentally and spiritually. That will give me something to look forward to." She laughed. "I'll make sure to remind you, in the future, that you wanted to learn. Perhaps you will not be happy that I have an excellent memory."

He smiled at the sweet chime of her laugh. "Oh, I'm sure you won't let me forget. Come on; let's finish with this page before the night's over. In the next stanza, the poet wants to know if the girl did all the things she dreamed of and if she missed him . . ."



But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?

And head back to the Milky Way?

But tell me, did Venus blow your mind?

Was it everything you wanted to find?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?



He chuckled. "The next part is kind of funny. The writer mentions things in his life he couldn't imagine living without . . ."



Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken,

Your best friend always sticking up for you?

Even when I know you're wrong.

Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance, five-hour phone conversation,

The best soy latte that you ever had,

And me?



"The things we can't live without are different for everyone. Without these things, our life would be lonely, sad, unfulfilled. I guess the guy liked fried chicken . . ."

Delenn frowned. "What is fried chicken? And freeze-dried romance, a phone conversation, and a soy latte?"

"I remember having to look a few of these things up myself. Fried chicken is a really, wonderful tasting bird from Earth. If we're ever there for a visit, I'll get my mom to cook it for you. I think you'd like it. A phone conversation is like our Babcom system without the picture. When teenagers fall in love, or anyone else, for that matter, they like to talk on the phone for a long time. Soy latte was some type of coffee drink. And I never could figure out what was meant by a freeze-dried romance. That one still stumps me." He looked toward Delenn. "The one thing that I couldn't live without is you."

With the tips of her fingers, she traced his jaw and lightly caressed his lips. "I feel the same, John. You are what I live for."

"The rest of the poem mostly just repeats of how he feels. At the end, though, he mentions that she is no longer in his atmosphere but still looking for herself."



But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?

And head back toward the Milky Way?

And tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milky Way; to see the lights all faded.

And that heaven is overrated?



Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star,

One without a permanent scar,

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself?



And did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?

And did you fall for a shooting star, a shooting star?

And are you lonely looking for yourself out there?



John knew, now that the poem had ended and revelations had been put forth, there would be many more conversations revolving around his feelings of insecurity. With time and patience, though, maybe he would come to terms with the fact that he would cease to exist in twenty years. Then he would leave Delenn alone, something he could hardly imagine. But until then, he firmly believed that, together, they could do anything. The best years were yet to come. Years he would spend loving Delenn, as he had never loved another.

He closed the book and placed it back on the coffee table. "Delenn, I know this is a lot to discuss in one night. You might have a lot of questions. But it's getting really late, and I don't want to ruin your entire evening talking about so many depressing things . . ."

Delenn quickly interrupted him. "Yes, John. It is late, past midnight. But I have no plans to go anywhere until morning. All I must do is leave your quarters and walk to the Whitestar. My travel arrangements have been made. Besides, we must finish the ritual."

"Aaaww . . . do we have to?" His lips pursed into a pout.

"Yes, we have to," she chided. "This ritual is almost over. You have shared your deepest, darkest fears and now it is my turn to share. I promise. You will be glad to have one more ceremony finished. Besides, I think you will be pleased with the outcome."

Well, it was almost over anyway. "Okay, I'll finish the ritual. But, just to keep me in line, what is the outcome?"

"No, John. That is my secret. If you . . . stay in line . . . as you say, you will find out." She knew he wanted to end this as soon as possible and she was more than happy to oblige. She was nervous herself, but she was ready. After she left in the morning, it would be a long time before they would see each other again.

"You are right, John. I do have many questions. They will have to wait until I return. I understand your concerns and fears, because I share them." She paused, wondering how much to reveal tonight. Deciding on her course of action, she continued, "When I leave for Minbar in the morning, I do not know when I will return. I must stave off civil war and attempt to rebuild the Gray Council. This will be very difficult. If I have the opportunity to grow – to, as your poet would say, have more drops of Jupiter in my hair – I will never be lonely. This is because I will always have my memories of you. You will always be in my mind, heart, and soul. We are soul mates, you and I. We will be together, forever."

She shifted on the sofa, turning to face him. Taking both his hands in hers, she looked deeply into his smoky hazel eyes. "John, you touched my soul with your revelations. I am deeply moved by the depths of your feelings. I need you to understand that I feel the same for you. We are not of the same blood, but we are of the same heart."

With this last confession, she decided to bring the ritual to a close. She placed her fingers on his cheek and began to explore his face. She traced the worry lines on his forehead, down his cheek, to his lips. When she touched his soft lips, he closed his eyes and drew a sharp breath. Slowly, she leaned toward him, pressing her lips to his. The kiss began slowly, but quickly turned passionate. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer, as she massaged the back of his neck.

John moaned and began to pull away. "Delenn . . ." he gasped, but she continued her onslaught on his lips. "Please . . ." Her touch was driving him insane and he needed to put on the brakes.

Delenn gave him one final kiss before pulling back. She sighed. "Yes, John?"

Taking a deep breath, he tried to distance himself from her by shifting his position on the couch. "I think we need to slow down just a little. Frankly, you're driving me crazy."

She inclined her head as she observed the emotions flickering across his face. "John, I do not think you understand."

"Understand what?"

"When Minbari become close, as we have become close, rituals must be completed." When he groaned, she placed her hand on his thigh to gain his attention. "John, you will be happy to know that we are ready to close the Ack'Nowl ceremony. You have confessed your feelings, as have I. We have reconfirmed our commitment to one another. And we are preparing to separate for an undetermined amount of time."

She prepared herself for his reaction by trying to remain objective. "As I stated before, the ending depends upon the number and types of rituals previously performed and their success. Since we have completed the sleeping and Shan'fall rituals, we can progress to a more intimate conclusion. Only if you wish to do so, of course."

John's expression changed from shock to one of caution. "Umm . . . what do . . . I have to do this time?" he asked, stumbling over the words.

Knowing this would be his response, she decided to alleviate his distress quickly. "During the Shan'fall, we had to respectfully explore each others' points of pleasure with prayer and meditation. Our entourage was present to make sure the traditions were followed and that certain unspoken boundaries were not crossed." She noticed his stiff posture at the mention of the other Minbari. "Tonight, we are permitted to complete this ritual alone and in what ever fashion we deem appropriate." She decided to press her advantage. She began to trace lazy circles lightly around his knee and up the inside of his thigh.

John sighed and grabbed her hand to stop her ministrations. "Delenn . . . please stop. Listen to me. I understand what you're saying, but I'm not sure if you're ready for this . . . if we're ready for this." He fought to separate the immediate hunger his flesh felt for her from the longing his heart held for their future happiness. "Delenn . . . there's nothing in the world that I would rather do than spend the evening making love to you. But so many things happened tonight, so many emotions. I just don't want you to have any regrets."

Delenn was touched that he held her in such regard. Nonetheless, the ending to this custom had been confirmed as soon as the Shan'fall ritual had been completed, by her convictions and by her heart. "John . . . I am glad that you respect my feelings. But it is our tradition to complete the ritual. It matters to me that we do this properly." Rising from the couch, she took his hands in hers, urging him to stand. "You have two paths in front of you tonight. Only you can choose the path that you will follow. This decision has not been made frivolously. Even at this point in our relationship, we each have the right to choose the closing of the ceremony." She turned and began walking toward his bedroom, guiding him. At the threshold, she turned, blue eyes uniting with hazel ones – one soul reaching out to another. "Through many nights of meditation . . . my mind, heart, and soul agree. This is what I want, John. Please let me stay. Please stay with me."

John hesitated for only a moment before he gathered her into his arms, wrapping them around her waist as he buried his face in the crevice of her neck and shoulder. He took a deep breath, inhaling her unique fragrance that reminded him of both summer rain and sunshine. Sighing, he placed a gentle kiss below her ear before whispering, "I love you, Delenn. Yes, you can stay. Always."

He led her into his bedroom. Silently, he stroked the velvety planes of her face, tracing his fingers across her brow, down her cheek, and across her lips. He pressed his lips to hers, caressing them softly, then with more pressure as his tongue begged for entrance. The kiss intensified until his heart was beating so hard he was sure she could feel it as his chest was pressed to hers. His hands found their way into her hair, to stroke the back of her neck and shoulders.

Suddenly, he not only heard, but felt, a moan escape from deep within her chest. She placed her palms on his chest and began massaging with her fingertips, as if she were absentmindedly smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt. Breaking the kiss, she stepped slightly out of his embrace. Never breaking eye contact, she unfastened the large clasp that held her outer robe in place. "Help me, John . . ."

Unsure if she had uttered a request or a demand, he delicately placed his hands on her waist. She gracefully guided his hands to all the hidden fasteners that held the intricate layers of clothing together. The final removal of the last slip rendered him speechless. She was exquisite, stunning, and his. This was only the second time he had seen her naked. He stared in awe, admiring her soft, smooth, creamy skin; her perfect curves; and her dark, silky hair. It was a reverence he vowed to never lose. "You're . . . beautiful."

She smiled, remembering how he had acted in the same way during the Shan'fall ritual. That night, when they had discovered one another's centers of pleasure without consummating their relationship, remained vivid in her imagination. She remembered his soft, tender hands and how they respectfully explored her body.

His behavior tonight did not surprise her. He always treated her with adoration. She expected that she would have to coax him along, as she had done during the last ceremony. She was happy to comply, knowing that eventually he would feel more comfortable with their shared sensuality.

"Thank you," she whispered. She reached for his shirt, pulling it smoothly from the waistband of his pants. She deftly undid the buttons, placing tantalizing slow, velvety kisses down his chest.

He grabbed her hands as she attempted to unfasten his pants and stopped her protest with a kiss. "Let me . . ." He was struggling to maintain control and knew he couldn't if he didn't do this himself. Smiling in embarrassment, he removed the remainder of his clothes.

It was now Delenn's turn to stare in wonder. She circled his body while her fingers explored the hard planes of his chest, back, and shoulders. Finally she stopped in front of him. "You're . . . beautiful."

He smiled at her innocent expression and pulled her to him. Carefully, he helped her onto his bed, then reclined next to her. With every touch, caress, kiss, and moan, he conveyed his love. Their bodies intertwined and melded together in an exploration of love and commitment, both hearts surrendering and accepting in turn.

When the culmination of their bodies and souls reached contentment, they snuggled together – her head on his chest and their legs tangled together. He stroked her arm, feeling every breath she took, every beat of her heart. "Delenn . . . you are wonderful. Thank you." He sighed and kissed her hair.

Staving off sleep, she replied, "You are welcome, John."

Thinking back on the night's conversation, he made a final confession. "And in the infamous words of the poet, tonight I have sailed across the sun with the wind whipping at my feet. I finally reached heaven, and it was definitely not overrated." Snuggling closer to her, he whispered, "Delenn . . . you are my light . . . and you will never fade in my eyes. I love you."

At a loss for words, she smiled as she kissed on his chest. In her last breath before falling peacefully asleep, she murmured, "I love you, too."

As night passed into morning, a wonderful new memory was floating in the lovers' dreams – dreams that would sustain them through the difficult weeks ahead. Neither knew what the future held, except that their love would survive. A love that would be tested and tried in the next twenty years. A love that would never end and would last throughout eternity. And unseen by the two lovers, grains of stardust shimmered across their skin, like snowflakes sparkling in a column of moonlight.

The End