Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Delenn of Mir and John Sheridan

Author: NWHS

Planting the Future

Sunday

As with almost all Christian holidays, Easter has a secular side as well. The dichotomous nature of Easter and its symbols, however, is not necessarily a modern fabrication.

Easter has always had its non-religious side. In fact, Easter was originally a pagan festival. It was co-opted by Christian missionaries starting in the second century CE.

The ancient Saxons celebrated the return of spring with an uproarious festival commemorating their goddess of offspring and of springtime, Eastre. When the second-century Christian missionaries encountered the tribes of the north with their pagan celebrations, they do what Christian missionaries have always done; they attempted to convert them to Christianity. They did so, however, in a clandestine manner.

It would have been dangerous for the very early Christian converts to celebrate their holy days with observances that did not coincide with celebrations that already existed. To save lives, the missionaries decided to spread their dogma slowly throughout the populations by allowing them to continue to celebrate pagan feasts, but to do so in a Christian manner.

As it happened, the pagan festival of Eastre occurred at the same time of year as the Christian observance of the Resurrection of Christ. It made sense, therefore, to alter the festival itself, to make it a Christian observance as pagans were slowly indoctrinated. The early name, Eastre, was eventually changed to its modern spelling, Easter.

The Date of Easter

Prior to A.D. 325, Easter was variously celebrated on different days of the week, including Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. In that year, the Council of Nicaea was convened by emperor Constantine. It issued the Easter Rule which states that Easter shall be celebrated on the first Sunday that occurs after the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox. The "full moon" in the rule is the ecclesiastical full moon, which is defined as the fourteenth day of a tabular lunation, where day 1 corresponds to the ecclesiastical New Moon. It does not always occur on the same date as the astronomical full moon. The ecclesiastical "vernal equinox" is always on March 21. Therefore, Easter must be celebrated on a Sunday between the dates of March 22 and April 25.

The Lenten Season

Lent is the forty-six day period just prior to Easter Sunday. It begins on Ash Wednesday. Mardi Gras (French for "Fat Tuesday") is a celebration, sometimes called "Carnival," practiced around the world, on the Tuesday prior to Ash Wednesday. It was designed as a way to "get it all out" before the sacrifices of Lent began. New Orleans is the focal point of Mardi Gras celebrations in the U.S. Read about the religious meanings of the Lenten Season.

The Easter Bunny

The Easter Bunny is not a modern invention. The symbol originated with the pagan festival of Eastre. The goddess, Eastre, was worshipped by the Anglo-Saxons through her earthly symbol, the rabbit.

The Germans brought the symbol of the Easter rabbit to America. It was widely ignored by other Christians until shortly after the Civil War. In fact, Easter itself was not widely celebrated in America until after that time.

The Easter Egg

As with the Easter Bunny and the holiday itself, the Easter Egg predates the Christian holiday of Easter. The exchange of eggs in the springtime is a custom that was centuries old when Easter was first celebrated by Christians.

From the earliest times, the egg was a symbol of birth in most cultures. Eggs were often wrapped in gold leaf or, if you were a peasant, colored brightly by boiling them with the leaves or petals of certain flowers.

Today, children hunt colored eggs and place them in Easter baskets along with the modern version of real Easter eggs - those made of plastic or chocolate candy.

John hit the END button on his handheld screen and turned in his chair to look at his wife, Delenn. She was standing in front of the refrigeration unit, peering inside, a frown etched over her beautiful features. In fact, she had been in that same position since John started to read.

"What's wrong, honey?" John stood from the small kitchen table. He walked to the other side of the brightly lit room, the large window framing the entire kitchen, allowing the mid-morning sun to beam its life-giving rays onto their refreshed bodies. It had been a long time, a very long time since John had seen or felt a real sunrise.

"I don't know what I want for breakfast." Delenn closed the refrigerator door and turned to John, who was pouring himself a second cup of coffee—another perk of living on a planet versus a space station, he thought. It had only been two weeks but John was already feeling the wondrous effects of waking up to the chirping of real birds and the glow of two moons lulling him to sleep. In fact, John's entire body felt relaxed, rejuvenated, reborn.

John took a tentative sip from the hot brew, Minbari coffee beans so much stronger, more potent than those grown on Earth. But it was good nonetheless, the grounds a taste John was quickly becoming accustomed to. Now, if only he could find something as equally palatable for his frowning wife.

"I can make you one of my world famous shakes." Delenn's frown lines grew even deeper, almost as deep as the purple in her bathrobe.

Delenn sat in a chair opposite where John had been sitting, a heavy sigh matching the roughness with which she claimed the chair. And that was a switch. John was normally the one who hated mornings. In fact, it took every bit of willpower he had to marshal the strength to pull himself out of bed each morning. On the other hand, Delenn, god bless her Minbari soul, was a bright eyed, ready to go, morning person.

Or at least she was, the first trimester of her pregnancy sapping all her natural vitality. So whereas John found nothing but pleasure living on a planet as beautiful and intriguing as his wife, Delenn felt only the darkness of long winter months—a groundhog yet to see her shadow, forecasting better times to come.

But it was more than that, John knew. Delenn still missed Lennier. And if he wasn't mistaken, his wife also harbored more than her fair share of guilt concerning the unfortunate decision Lennier made that fateful day aboard the White Star.

And while John found it easy to forgive Lennier his trespass, he wasn't so magnanimous to believe that it wasn't hard to forgive when he didn't have to see Lennier's face hovering about Delenn every day, waiting for a morsel of affection from her. And, yes, in John's weak more jealous moments, he wondered how Delenn had not seen it earlier, if she had done something inadvertently, said something, even the tiniest, most innocent gesture, that could've given Lennier the slightest hope that she would one day return his love.

They were foolish, dangerous thoughts, John knew. But he sometimes contemplated the paths he and Delenn had taken in their lives that led them to this place, together, expecting a son. And the paths Lennier had taken, with Delenn by his side, and alone, like he was now.

John spared his wife a loving glance, thinking how radiant she appeared with her hair pulled up off her neck into a neat bun, a style she rarely wore her hair in, but one that displayed the luscious line of her exquisite neck. The neck he so very much enjoyed sliding his tongue against, pressing firm at the spot right above her collarbone that made her squeal in the most sinfully delightful way.

And John thought Delenn would look even more radiant when she was full and heavy with their child, the one that was giving her body so much trouble as of late. Delenn's hormones were playing havoc with her emotions, turning his normally placid wife into an impatient, irritable, irrational shell of her normal self. Diplomacy be damned when she got into one of her moods, her too Human tendency to swear reared its ugly head when provoked, Delenn maintaining just enough sanity to only go supernova in his presence.

"I'm tired of only being able to keep down one of your shakes," she said, eyeing his plate of bacon and eggs longingly. Well, they weren't exactly bacon and eggs, but it was the closest Minbar had to the traditional Earth food, the distinction in taste and texture insignificant, the precise name of the items even less important. Delenn had hired them an excellent cook, too bad she was yet to be a recipient of one of Shaymar's delicious meals. John could definitely get used to such pampering, hell, he already had.

And a smidge of guilt arose within. If anyone would've told him he would be happier about the move to Minbar than Delenn, John would've called them a liar. Yet the truth was evident. Which was why John was researching Easter, he wanted to know what Delenn had learned about the holiday before he began his week of seduction and soothing.

"The morning sickness won't last forever, honey," he tried to reassure. The scathing look she gave him said she wasn't buying it.

She huffed and gave his plate of food another wistful look. "Fine, John, I'll partake of one of those fruity drinks of yours." Delenn shrugged. "I guess it's a better option than starving or disgracing myself by eating a forkful of your ler'nal, forcing me to flee in search of the nearest bathroom.

Ler'nal? John looked at his plate, wondering which of the two items that was.

"A shake it is then." He smiled, hoping Delenn would return the good feeling. She didn't. John tried another tactic. "Tell me of your spring holiday, the one you mentioned a week ago."

Delenn paused, considered him with quizzical eyes, and then gave him the smile that made his heart swell, as well as other regions of his body. And dammit, they hadn't made love in two freaking weeks. And who's fault was that? His.

Perhaps, but John was yet to concede that point. No, he still firmly blamed Minbar for their overzealous vaccination laws. Sure, all planets had vaccinations rules and procedures. It was a common enough protocol for a visitor to a planet to have a battery of vaccinations before entering the planet. In fact, Stephen made sure every person who lived on and visited Babylon 5, especially the crew, was up-to-date with their shots.

And, yes, Stephen had arranged for John to take the shots Minbar required before his departure. And, yes, John procrastinated, and only got around to making time to go to Medlab a day before he and Delenn were scheduled to leave. So, okay, maybe that was his fault. But the additional shots he was ordered to take once arriving, by Minbar's version of an OBGYN, was the final straw.

And, no, even that wasn't entirely true. The final straw had been when the doctor informed them that they needed to abstain from sex for three weeks until the vaccination had completely cleared his body, and it was clear that he would be of no threat to Delenn or the baby.

John was pretty sure if he had anything to spread to his wife or unborn, it was past the point of no return. And he said as much, perhaps a tad bit more crass than the situation warranted. But the truth was the truth, he and Delenn had a very active sex life, and if he was contagious, well, she damn sure was a willing recipient.

Then the good doctor had given John the Minbari version of I can't believe someone like her hooked up with a moron like you look and John had blanched, feeling like an ogre for not wanting to go without. But damn, he and Delenn had waited so long to make love, and now they could without a nauseating number of rituals to perform first.

And what was it that John didn't understand? Well, it wasn't that the doctor thought John was at risk of unknowingly passing on some lethal pathogen to his family. No, the composition of the female hormone altered during Minbari pregnancy, provided additional nutrients to both mother and child. And while such an alteration was of benefit to the mother, Minbari had discovered a long time ago that outside of a woman's body, it was toxic. Similar in the way alcohol consumption was dangerous to them. While Minbari males have a natural immunity to the hormone, other races did not, body fluid— blood, saliva, vaginal secretion,—were obvious sources of transference. And Delenn was still Minbari enough in physiology to secrete the hormone and not be negatively affected.

The bottom line, the vaccination was for his protection, not Delenn's. And didn't that just make John feel like a jerk. Yet he and Delenn had been intimate since her pregnancy and he felt fine. But Delenn nor the doctor were willing to take any unnecessary chances, so he allowed the blasted shots, and hadn't had sex with his wife in fourteen days, five hours, and too many seconds.

"It pleases me," Delenn began, bringing his attention back to the question he posed and away from how thoroughly he was going to ravish her at week's end, "when you take an interest in Minbari customs and culture."

The proud look alone she gave him was enough to make John turn away from Delenn in search of the blender he'd brought with him from Babylon 5. Yeah, Delenn hadn't made the last two weeks easy on him. Pregnancy may have set in motion unpredictable mood swings, but her libido was as strong and vibrant as ever. Perhaps even more so, this, ironically, was a source of her frustration.

And, yes, turning down an amorous Delenn was like failing to breathe—deadly, dangerous, and all together stupid. But John held tightly to his self-control, knowing once Delenn was right of mind she would rake herself over the coals for failing to adhere to a very practical medical dictate, feeling unreasonably guilty that she'd somehow endangered John's safety. No. As much as John wanted his wife, he wouldn't do that to her. It could wait. And John knew exactly how much longer he would have to wait, down to the second.

"Valen said the Valzah'bar Festival provides a way to connect with Minbar through food, creative activities, workshops, music, ceremonies, and folklore. Spring celebrates the awakening of nature after winter, a time of new growth and potential, a time for all that is new and possible, a time to let go of whatever may be hindering our own growth! It is a time for meditation to bring us out of our winter period of reflection, and make a symbolic planting of seeds representing our intentions, wishes and goals that we will nurture and grow over the coming months – a true celebration of rebirthing your life and nature itself!"

"That's beautiful, Delenn." John removed the fresh fruit from the refrigeration unit, removed a cutting board from one of the drawers, and began to slice the fruit, not too small, just enough to fit inside the blender.

And wasn't that typical of Minbari to have such a flowery way of describing their own festival while outlining the customs of another—like Easter—in such sterile sentiments. Not that what John had read about Easter from the Minbari virtual library uploaded on his palm unit was inaccurate per se. It just . . . well, it lacked the warm fuzzy feeling he knew Easter to be, the way spring was to him when he was a kid, itching to be free from school, to play, laugh, and just have fun.

John wanted that for Delenn, but spring on Minbar was months away. He didn't care, Delenn needed spring and he would bring it to her—John Sheridan style.

Chapter 2: Monday

"He did what?" was all John managed to hear before Delenn's Adronato became too fast for John to decipher. Not that he had any real grasp of the language, but he could manage a bit here and there, Delenn taking an hour each night to review what she considered the basics, which to John, wasn't basic at all. It was a complicated language and Delenn, bless her pregnant soul, was a taskmaster. Her strict adherence to rules, procedures, and proper enunciation rivaled that of any Earthforce Academy instructor.

Yet John didn't need the translator Delenn supplied him upon their arrival on Minbar. No, he knew exactly what she and the worker caste staff were discussing. Him.

"John?" Delenn called from the foyer. He waited, knowing she'd find him soon enough. "John?" she repeated, her eyes going wide when she entered the living room.

"Hi, honey, what are you doing home from work so early?"

She opened her mouth to speak—three times—closing each time, moving further into the room, careful not to step on one item or another strewn about. Not that John had made the task easy for her, or himself, for that matter. Virtually every inch of the living room floor was covered with something of his, hers, theirs, and some items John had yet to identify as belonging to either one of them.

"The staff called you?"

Appearing numb, Delenn nodded, her jaw working, a tick John had never seen before coming and going like a scary blinking light.

"I know it looks a mess—''

"Disaster," Delenn said, interrupting, her eyes finally settling on John. "I thought there had to be some sort of misunderstanding." Delenn removed her shoes, held them in her hand, and cautiously made her way through the landmine and to her husband.

"When Shaymar called to say you had dismissed the staff for the week, I thought her mistaken. Then I went to your office only to discover you had taken the entire week off." Delenn shook her head, confused green-gray eyes analyzing John for what he could only assume was madness. And to Delenn, or any Minbari, his actions would appear strange, or at least out of the ordinary.

"Are you feeling unwell, John?" Delenn reached for his face, found his cheek, her tiny, soft probing hand sweet, in spite of the barely repressed frown marring her lovely features. "Are you having a contraindication to the vaccinations?"

"No, no, Delenn, nothing like that." John smiled down at his wife, before smoothing his hand over the one on his face. "I took the week off to do a few needed things around the house."

Delenn's eyes quickly scanned the room before returning to him. "It appears, John, you did not need a week. I think you've managed to do a fine job making our home inhabitable in just one morning. Was that your goal, what you needed to do? Are you satisfied with your search? Have you found what you were looking for?"

Without waiting for a reply to questions that sounded more sarcastic than sincere, Delenn made to walk around John, but he stilled her, grabbing his wife by the waist, and pulling her to him.

He kissed her neck, lingering in spite of the stench of irritation wafting from her like an ill-suited perfume.

"You're upset with me. I can always tell," John said, sliding her long, brown hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck more thoroughly, the collar of her red and blue robe just shy of being in the way. "You get all prickly with me, eyes narrow, voice thicken to icy daggers, and," John said, holding Delenn tighter when she made to move, "you ask me questions meant to show your displeasure. You know, honey, where I'm from that's considered passive aggressive behavior."

"And where I'm from," Delenn shot back, trying to see him from over her shoulder, "it's considered impolite to destroy the work of another."

John released her then, and she rounded on him, her robe gently caressing his legs. "What have I destroyed?" He glanced about the room thinking he'd broken something when he'd unpacked the boxes.

Delenn raised her arms, gesturing to the room at large. "This, John. Our staff placed the boxes in this room, and organized them according to our specifications. And look what you've done. You've ruined all of their work, tearing into the boxes with little care. I can scarce see the floor upon which I walk, John. What were you thinking?"

Yeah, that last question was laced with more than a mood swing.

"Delenn, honey," John tried to soothe, "I know it looks like an explosion in here, but I got tired of living out of boxes. I know we agreed to wait until that shipment arrived from Earth before we fully unpacked but it's been two weeks, and I'm tired of bumping into boxes wherever I go."

"So this is your way of putting our home to rights?" Delenn ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "John, I understand humans do things differently than Minbari, and while your haphazard approach to unpacking may serve you well, this room is nothing short of chaotic."

John couldn't help but laugh. God his wife could be unbelievably anal about some things.

John leaned in and kissed his wife's vaguely pouting lips. Delenn didn't truly do pouting, but she was very close today. He'd pushed her just that far. "Sweetheart, on Earth this is called spring cleaning."

She glanced about the room again and John could see the wheels turning in her head saying, If this is what he considers cleaning, I'd hate to see his version of dirty. And, yes, from a Minbari perspective she would see it that way. To him, the room was organized chaos.

"I know how it looks now, Delenn, but if you hadn't come home so early, you would've seen the end result of my efforts instead of the process." John winked at her. "The beginning stage never looks impressive, kinda like when I get out of the shower. With a little work and patience, it gets better, the full impact not seen until the end." John gave his wife another wink, watching her closely to see if she caught the double meaning of his words.

Delenn blushed and looked down. Yup, she understood perfectly.

"John, I'm Minbari so I understand the desire to have a tidy dwelling. I, too, have tired of the clutter, which was why I gave the staff a directive to begin to unpack our belongings today."

John didn't know that, no wonder they'd scampered off to call Delenn, undoubtedly concerned she'd be cross with them once she'd discovered John had done the work himself. And, no, Delenn was never unkind to the staff, but she was stern in her directives, expecting them to be followed without question. And John couldn't help but wonder if part of her aloofness with the staff had something to do with how fully she blurred the lines between mentor and acolyte with Lennier, falling back on stringent rules of propriety.

"I have no idea why humans relegate cleaning to one season of the year. And, John, you already know that spring is weeks away."

John knew she would interpret spring cleaning this way, her knowledge gaps of Earth customs almost predictable.

"In many parts of Earth, Delenn, it is spring. And, no, humans clean all year long, but spring is traditionally a time we use to do all the chores we may have put off during the cold winter months. Like your spring festival, it's also a time for renewal and rebirth, cleaning very symbolic in that."

Delenn nodded, he knew she would understand the symbolism. "I wish to share a human tradition with you, so I cleared my schedule and took the week off. We're going to be neck deep in Alliance business with the move, and things can get lost or ignored in the day-to-day madness that is our lives."

Again, Delenn nodded her agreement.

"I wanted to do something for you . . . for us before everything got so crazy with the Alliance and the pregnancy. Before you know it, Delenn, our miracle baby will be here."

John couldn't help rubbing a large, protective hand over his wife's miniscule baby bump, that was barely a bump at all.

"What is this tradition of yours?" Delenn asked, all the frustration and impatience gone from her tone, genuine curiosity having taken root.

"Humans do a lot of things during spring. We celebrate Easter, students are released from school during what we call Spring Break, flowers and trees are planted, giving back to the Earth what we've taken, mother's are celebrated, houses are cleaned from top to bottom." John shrugged. "Many things, honey, all of which puts us in a wonderful frame of mind to greet the second half of the year."

Delenn's eyes twinkled the way they always did when he mentioned aspects of his culture she was unaware. The wonderful thing about Delenn, John reflected, was that she was a consummate student, always eager to learn more and more, filling her cup of knowledge with facts and new concepts. And John was her willing teacher, the way she was his in all things Minbari. This they shared equally and proudly.

"I will share a few of the traditions with you this week. I won't, however, spoil my fun by divulging all just because you like to know everything and be in charge."

"I don't need to be in charge," Delenn countered. "I just don't favor your version of a surprise."

John laughed. "My version of a surprise?" he questioned, wrapping his arms around his wife's shoulders, stealing a quick kiss. "It's been my experience that Minbari don't like surprises of any sort because they can't fathom the notion of someone knowing something they don't."

"I think," Delenn said with a quirk of her lips, "that you've just insulted my entire race, implying that we are what you humans call snobs. And if I'm not mistaken," Delenn continued, ignoring John's chuckle, "the last time I was surprised I ended up fainting in your office, only to awaken confused in Medlab with you and Stephen staring at me as if you'd never seen a pregnant Minbari before."

John's smile widened, and he enfolded Delenn in his arms. "Ah, see, Delenn, all surprises aren't bad."

She sighed with contentment. "No, John, not all."

Holding her tight, John felt the first tingly embers of spring fever, and he began to sing, low and slightly off-key, serenading his wife, a ballad of old.

"I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm, I'm as jumpy as puppet on a string
I'd say that I had spring fever, but I know it isn't spring
I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented, like a nightingale without a song to sing
O why should I have spring fever, when it isn't even spring"

Chapter 3: Wednesday

Delenn sat behind her waist high crystal desk, the pink and yellow of the crystal swirling together giving off the most brilliant shine, made even more glorious when she opened the window blinds, letting in the late winter rays.

She was happy to be home, relished being among members of her clan she hadn't seen since she'd ended the civil war and reformed the Grey Council. Those were dark days for her and the people of Minbar, a darkness she hoped would never return.

Delenn looked down at a pile of requests, applications for the Anla'shok. She would have to go through each carefully, first dividing them into member nations, then weaning out the ones who didn't meet the basic requirements, then scheduling appointments with a Minbari physician for a psychological exam, and then . . . Well, the list went on and on, Delenn's mind not as focused as she would like.

No, her thoughts drifted to the last two days and John's insistence on sharing spring with her despite the fact that it wasn't spring at all. Delenn adored spring, the transition of the universe, reminding its inhabitants that out of the cold and dark, life still exist. Yet she hadn't experienced the change in seasons in five long years, a space station not conducive to such natural phenomenon, the artificial reality warping the senses, the mind.

But her husband was determined to have his early spring. Delenn couldn't help but smile, recalling the explosion of clothes, crystals, books, and other miscellaneous items he'd pulled out of their boxes, dropped onto the floor, all in an effort to perform a ritual of spring cleaning.

"You may have your spring cleaning, John," she had said to him, "but this ritual of yours must be performed by the household staff."

"Delenn, this is our home, I don't have a problem cleaning up after myself. In fact, I've been looking forward to arranging things. I haven't had a real home in far too long. I can finally unpack everything, knowing this residence is permanent, and not some short-term assignment like on the Aggie or Babylon 5."

Delenn understood the importance of permanence and security, and knew John, like herself, had been without it for many years. Yet . . .

"John," she'd said, hoping to provide a bit of cultural clarity, "you've dismissed the staff for the week. And while I know you prefer to do things yourself, like cooking, even though you aren't . . . well, particularly adept in the kitchen, you are not of the worker caste."

"I'm of no caste, Delenn."

"That is correct, but I am, and so are the house staff. I know you didn't mean to, but in dismissing them for the week and choosing to spring clean, you have dishonored them."

He gave her a puzzled look, the same one Delenn was sure was plastered on her face when she'd arrived home to find most of their belongings on the living room floor, her husband standing in the middle as if he was King of Chaos.

She laced her fingers through his. "By opting to perform a task relegated to the worker caste, you inadvertently implied that they lacked the requisite skills to complete the assignment to your satisfaction. I know that wasn't your intention, but they will . . . have interpreted your action that way all the same."

Delenn hushed him when he made to apologize. He needn't apologize, it was an honest mistake borne of cultural differences. She'd made enough of them on Babylon 5 to know how easily one can fall into such an innocent cultural trap.

"I will speak with them, make them understand."

"That your human mate is a cultural idiot."

"Not an idiot, John, just very, very sweet." She kissed his cheek then. "I like the idea of an early spring. I like the idea of you thinking of Minbar and this house as your home even more. It pleases me you want to take a more direct role in making this house a home for your family."

John returned the kiss, his lips warm and all too tempting. He whispered, "I've already planted one seed, now I'll like to plant a few more, watch them take root, and grow."

Delenn now pondered his words. What seed had he already planted? There were numerous fully grown trees on the grounds, none of which John planted himself. Had he planted a sapling she hadn't yet seen? Delenn doubted John would've had time to do so, or even knew how.

She leaned her head against the back of her soft swivel chair, closing her eyes. The inner workings of a human's mind baffled her sometimes. And John's mind was full of undecipherable things like the planting of seeds, which made little sense to Delenn.

Delenn sighed, decreasing the cadence of her breathing to slow, shallow breaths. Thinking about John and his two days of relentless spring cleaning, arms and legs sweaty and bare as he slid, lifted, and pulled furniture, pictures, clothing, and books, placing them exactly where he wanted them—on shelves, in bedrooms, on walls, made Delenn ache.

Valen help her, the pin'cha hormone would be the death of her. At first, she didn't think it had developed. The first two months of her pregnancy had yielded no increase in her sexual appetite, a sign of Minbari pregnancy. Delenn's desire had been normal, no fluctuation at the beginning of the cycle, noting the early stage of pin'cha.

And so the news of her pregnancy had been a shock not simply because she and John didn't think, even with her partly human body, that they were compatible enough to produce a child. But the hormone had also been absent. Delenn slowed her breathing even more, her body fighting the mind, demanding release.

Delenn abruptly stood. It was no good, the hormone too strong. Valen how she wanted John, the hormone slow to form in her transformed body, but once she'd entered her third month, it blossomed like the tree John keeps referring to. And if John had been Minbari, they wouldn't have had to abstain from sex, the primal release of the hormonal fluid during copulation important to the bonding process between father and child. And it increased the spiritual bond between mates, drawing their souls even closer, merging the two into one irrevocable link.

Yet they had yet to share this wondrous experience as a mated couple, John's human DNA vulnerable to the pin'cha, the vaccination necessary for his protection. But oh how Delenn yearned for him, his soft, wet tongue suckling at her nipples, while she pulsed wantonly around the long, hard length of him, moaning and grinding her hips closer to his with each deep lunge—''

A soft wrap on her office door made Delenn jump, as if she'd been actually caught in that most compromising of positions.

"Enter," Delenn said, her voice unsteady, body still tingling from her sexual daydream. Valen, Delenn didn't think she could last another day without the release her body burned for, the pregnancy hormone a sheen of sensual rose petals over her neglected body.

The heavy metal door opened, followed by three women, pale and slight of frame like most Minbari females. They bowed deeply, in deference to Delenn's status and their youth. And they were young, Delenn mused, carefully perusing each one in turn.

The woman to Delenn's furthest left was dressed in a simple, all-white robe, the same all religious caste acolytes wore, Delenn no exception.

The middle woman's robes were brown and white. A simple triangular design decorated the crossover tunic marking her of the worker caste.

Finally, the young woman to Delenn's right was the only one of the three whose shoulders was firm, erect. Eyes fixed to the ground like the others, her head was not bowed, her warrior pride too great to supplicate herself more than necessary. Black tunic with equally black bottoms further distinguished her from the others.

Delenn walked until she was standing in front of the three young women who had yet to meet her eyes.

"How may I help you?" Delenn asked.

"It is us who are here to help you," the religious caste woman responded.

"We have been sent to serve, and serve we will—"

"With honor," the warrior caste woman interjected, seeming to complete the thought of the worker caste woman who nodded her assent.

Delenn surveyed the young women again, recognizing them although they had yet to introduce themselves officially. Propriety dictated they wait until directed to do so. They would not speak unless directly asked, and Delenn, having spent years away from home and among differing cultural groups, now found some Minbari customs a bit archaic, if not downright stifling.

"Please, tell me who I have the pleasure of hosting this afternoon."

Delenn stood in front of the warrior caste woman, giving her the honor of going first, her obvious strength of character shining through despite her youth. She was respectful but not cowed by Delenn's clear authority over her. That was good.

The young woman spoke, voice brimming with clan pride when she said, "I'm Rasheel of the Fire Wings clan, daughter of Satai Mazetsch."

Delenn nodded and moved to her left, placing herself in front of the worker caste Minbari, the tunic that was simple in design but exquisite in form, perfectly tailored. This one, Delenn thought, had an eye for detail, taking care with her work, quality more important than quantity.

"And you?"

The young woman's lips trembled just a bit before she spoke, but her voice was also strong, and she spoke clearly, never wavering. "I'm Waliri of the worker caste, daughter of Satai Durlan."

Pleased, Delenn took her place in front of the third and last woman, the one who looked as if she would scurry away, seeking a hole into which to hide if Delenn showed any sign of displeasure.

Delenn made her voice as soft and non-threatening as she could and placed a supporting hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"And you?"

The tremor that ran through the girl started at their point of contact, and Delenn guessed continued down to her pretty, white slippers. With effort, the girl stilled her shaking limbs, and didn't recoil from Delenn's touch. And Delenn smiled at this one, too. She had courage. And when she finally spoke, there wasn't even the slightest trace of nerves, no, nothing but an indomitable resolution to conquer her fear.

"I'm Bamer of the Eighth Fane of Tredomo, niece of Satai Bhurlee."

Delenn stepped back, eyeing the women with respect, and wondered if she'd carried herself with such poise and grace at that age.

"Is there something the Grey Council wishes of me? Is that why you are here?" Delenn asked, for she could imagine no other reason why three Minbari from such notable clans would be standing before her now.

"No, Entilzha Delenn," Rasheel promptly responded. "We are here at the behest of President Sheridan."

Waliri chimed in. "We are to serve as your aides."

"That is if you will honor us with the opportunity to prove our worth," Bamer finished.

Delenn was shocked. John had acquired her not one but three aides. And not just any aides. How in the universe had he managed to convince three members of the Grey Council to approve such an assignment? And when?

Then Delenn felt the embers of anger flare inside. How dare John take it upon himself to replace Lennier. He had no right to interfere. It was her decision to make, and she wasn't prepared to make it just yet. And just as her hormones raged, the rational side of her doused the snapping flames. Bamer's words calming the emotional beast. "President Sheridan said this would be a wonderful opportunity for you to plant a few seeds of your own, watch them take shape, blossom, and then release them back to the universe."

Delenn closed her eyes, extinguished a cleansing breath, and expelled the last of her fury. Valen, she really couldn't go on like this, the longer the pin'cha built within without a release, the more irritable and crazed she would become.

Delenn opened her eyes and said in a soft but firm tone, "I cannot have aides that will not look up. You will forever be walking into things."

And they looked up, the first seed planted.

Chapter 4: Thursday

As Delenn unlocked the door to her home and entered, she re-read the handwritten note delivered to her office thirty minutes ago.

April showers bring May flowers,
That is what they say.

But if all the showers turned to flowers,
We'd have quite a colorful day!

There'd be bluebells and cockleshells,
Tulips red and green,
Daffodils and Chinese squill,
The brightest you've ever seen.

You'd see tiger lilies and water lilies,
Carnations pink and blue,
Forget-me-not and small sundrop
Glistening with the dew.

We'd have fireweed and milkweed
And many more different flowers.
Mexican star and shooting star,
Falling in the showers.

And if all the showers turned to flowers
On that rainy April day,
Would all the flowers turn to showers
In the sunny month of May?

Meet me for lunch.

Love

John

Delenn left her shoes at the front door and folded the paper in half, securing it in the pocket of her forest green robe. She couldn't help but smile at the love note. She and John rarely ate lunch together, both too busy, even when they were aboard Babylon 5. And then there was the poem, a sweet rhyming poem, reminding Delenn of the ones written by children during the Valzah'bar Festival.

She walked down a hallway, made a left, and entered the living room. John wasn't there, but evidence of his presence was obvious. The room was stunning in what John referred to as earth tone colors—brown, green, and blue. The green and blue draperies covering the windows and balcony doors matched the floral design of the sofa, loveseat, and settee. The walls, however, were offset in a pale brown that made the blues and greens of the room appear like an indoor garden. And Delenn supposed that was John's intention.

The word cozy came to mind and Delenn wiggled her toes on the thick carpet. And how John managed to do all of this in less than a week was beyond her. And yesterday when she'd made to take a peek in the room adjacent their bedroom, she was met with a Do not Enter, Work in Progress sign and a securely locked door.

And now what was her husband up to?

Delenn went in search of John, not finding him in the dining room, kitchen, den, or the balcony. Finally, she ventured into the bedroom, calling his name.

"John, I'm home. I thought we were to have lunch, but there is nothing laid out in the kitchen or dining room."

The room was empty, Delenn stood in the middle of the room confused and a tad annoyed. She planned only to take a brief lunch at her desk while working, using the time to review the Alliance's budget for the upcoming fiscal year. Yet when she'd received John's note, she had Wagiri reschedule a meeting so she and John would have more than the thirty minutes Delenn normally reserved for lunch. Now, she stood alone in their bedroom, John nowhere to be found.

Then she spotted the folded piece of pink paper on a pillow on the bed—her pillow. Delenn moved to the bed, quickly grabbing the note and reading.

No questions, just undress, and meet me in the room across the hall.

Ah, the Do not Enter, Work in Progress room. She should've known.

Delenn happily complied; feeling surprisingly excited about what her husband had planned for her. She assumed it was another one of his early spring gifts. Admittedly, when John first mentioned his desire for them to have their own personal spring, she was less than enthused. In fact, Delenn was downright apathetic to the idea, her fluctuating hormonal state making her less than appreciative of his efforts.

But this morning had changed all of that, the three aides John acquired for her an unexpected and welcomed asset. When she arrived to her office this morning, there was a hot cup of tea waiting for her, Anla'shok applications catalogued, and White Star expense reports compiled, dated, awaiting her signature. Her mornings hadn't run that smoothly since Lennier. But unlike working with Lennier, Delenn didn't have to monitor her every word or action for fear of unknowingly leading Lennier on, pretending not to notice the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention. No, there were no such stressors today, just a productive environment with three talented young women with incalculable potential. The seeds John expected her to plant.

Delenn made her way to the room, touched the silver knob, and then turned. The room was flooded with light. The bamboo blinds for the window wall were completely pulled back, exposing the backyard and the acres of green, plush grass and towering overhanging trees.

But it was the room itself that took Delenn's breath away. The room was done in a smooth wood finish, both floor and the walls. A mural was painted on the three wooded walls, a meadow of five-lobed blue flowers with a yellow center growing on scorpioid cymes. The flowers, which also included pink and white petals, traversed the bottom of each wall, appearing to grow from the floor itself. And from the ceiling, droplets of rain fell, sprinkling the flowers with its life giving moisture, a canopy of rejuvenation, fortification.

And in the center of the rainy garden stood John in front of a large, wooden structure that was filled with water. John walked to her then, realizing she hadn't moved from the entranceway, his robe loosely tied, evidence of his naked state sensually obvious.

John reached for Delenn, his smile as bright as the afternoon sun wafting in, twinkling off the water. "I thought I asked you to undress," he said, eyeing her bathrobe disdainfully. "I meant everything off." One finger tugged at Delenn's knotted robe and it gave way, the belt falling to the side in helpless defeat.

Delenn could do nothing but stare at her husband, the room, the huge container of water, and then back at John whose smile was radiant and dangerous.

"How?" was all Delenn could manage, her robe slipping from one shoulder, and then the other, John's adept fingers performing their job with efficiency.

"Well, this," he said, mildly gesturing to the room with his head, intense eyes focused on Delenn, "has been in the works for months. I sent pictures and blueprints to the architects once we'd outlined the make-up of the Alliance headquarters and our home."

John took Delenn's hand and walked her to the center of the room. He removed his robe and walked up two steps, stepping one foot into the container of water.

He smiled back at Delenn when John realized she hadn't followed. "Come, honey, it's all right. It's what we humans call a hot tub. A hot tub is exactly that, a very large tub filled with warm water in which bathers may soak."

Cautiously, she allowed John to help her into the container of, yes, very hot water. It was not only hot, it bubbled in spots, pushing around the blue flower petals floating on top. This hot tub was the most sinfully magnificent luxury Delenn had ever seen, and the warm pulsing water felt tantalizing against her skin. The only thing better was the way John was holding her, pulling her next to him on a seat in the tub, the blue petals pooling around them.

John's mouth found Delenn's neck, gliding slowly from her collarbone to her nape, sucking her ear lobe as he made his way to the other side. Pleasure rippled through Delenn, the pin'cha hormone bubbling faster than the water in the hot tub.

"Legend has it that in medieval times, a knight and his lady were walking along the side of a river. He picked a posy of flowers, but because of the weight of his armor, he fell into the river. As he was drowning, he threw the posy to his loved one and shouted, 'Forget-me-not.' It was often worn by ladies as a sign of faithfulness and enduring love."

John plucked one of the blue petals from the water, the moisture weighing the delicate petal down. He placed it in Delenn's hand. "On Earth, the plant blooms in spring along wetlands and riverbanks." His lips dipped to the valley between her breasts, and Delenn took in a sharp breath. Valen, he shouldn't be doing this. Definitely dangerous.

"Forget-me-nots aren't indigenous to Minbar, as you know, but this," he touched the blue petal, "was the closest I could find." His lips sought and found her nipple, John's right hand Delenn's own forget-me-not wet petals.

"J-John, we c-can't," Delenn stuttered, John's finger circling her folds, sending waves of pleasure through her. "It's too early. John, please."

And Delenn didn't know what exactly she was pleading for. Was she asking him to stop, to proceed no further because they had days left before they were given medical approval to be intimate? Or was she pleading with him to free her from the hormones assaulting and controlling her senses?

"Delenn," John whispered against her throbbing neck, one long, thick finger sliding inside, gently massaging, the warm water amplifying the sensation, "I had no idea what you've been going through. I should've taken the time to really listen to your doctor, or simply research the hormone, like I did today."

The pad of his thumb slithered across her clit, a snake forking its tongue out, scenting the air. Then the finger began to move within, charming the snake, making Delenn dance.

Slither. Thrust. Dance.

Slither. Thrust. Dance

Slither. Thrust. Dance.

"You need the hormonal release, honey, and I can give it to you. Just. Like. This."

Two fingers and Delenn was lost to the overwhelming sensation, the stroking and releasing of her caged need, the rhythm of the hypnotic dance, making this moment indeed unforgettable, just like John.

"Sunday," he said, placing Delenn's hand over his rigid manhood, starting the slow glide for her, his eyes closing as she tightened her grip, creating her own dance, "when we get the all clear from the doc, we're going to christen every room in this house. You bring your flower, and together we'll make me rain."

Chapter 5: Friday

Delenn looked from John and back to the dangling gift in her hand. She'd been staring at the trinket for a solid minute, John growing impatient with the I don't know what this is and why John bothered to give it to me look. John remembered that frowning face well, the same one his wife donned when he'd given her the diamond engagement ring.

John reclaimed the delicate item, holding it tenderly in his large hands. It had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince the jewelers that sometimes speed is better than perfection. Not that John wanted to give Delenn anything that was less than perfect, but if he went by Minbari standards, he would have had nothing to give his wife on the first of many Mother's Days.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly Mother's Day, even by Earth standards. But it would be soon, and John was just too impatient to wait. Once the idea formed in his mind, he'd simply acted. Material gifts were foreign concepts to Minbari, possessions meaning very little to them. Gifts, for a Minbari, were intangible, spiritual, or intellectual in nature.

Well, John didn't do intangible. He wanted to shower Delenn with as many gifts as she would allow, spoiling her with his love, leaving her with as many physical reminders of their time together as possible.

But gift giving had to be done carefully, without giving Delenn the appearance of being the recipient of frivolous, selfish consumption. So, John decided to celebrate Mother's Day without full disclosure. At least this first year, depending on how receptive she turned out to be toward the gift she was still eyeing with patient sufferance.

And the fact that she hadn't exploded and was waiting calmly for him to explain, was a testament to his lovemaking. Well, not exactly lovemaking, for they hadn't actually had intercourse. But they'd thoroughly explored each other's centers of pleasure, John being careful not to consume any of Delenn's fluids. So kissing—both set of lips—were out. And what that left was basically the Shan'Fal sans the oral play.

Yet it was enough to get them both off, especially Delenn, who'd needed the release of her pregnancy hormone, more than John had realized. And if she hadn't been so tight-lipped, John assumed from embarrassment, he could've given her what she required much earlier. But they hadn't exactly reached the point in their marriage where Delenn felt totally comfortable discussing what happens between them in the bedroom. Hell, John had yet to convince Delenn to wear one of the many teddies he'd purchased for her . . . for him before leaving Babylon 5. But he held out hope, and they were still early yet in their marriage.

"It's lovely," Delenn said. "Umm, what exactly is it, John?"

John smiled and ran a finger over the first crystal. "It's called a charm bracelet. It's a form of jewelry to be worn, like your wedding and engagement rings, but on the wrist." John touched Delenn's small wrist, thinking it was as delicate as the bracelet he held.

"See," John said, pointing to the three dangling charms, "the great thing about a charm bracelet is that the woman gets to create her own design, each charm meaningful to the wearer because it was selected with her in mind. I started this one for you with the three crystal pieces here. Give me your wrist, honey."

Delenn extended her right arm to John who pushed the wide sleeve of her white robe up a few inches and out of his way. He unclasped the bracelet and secured it on Delenn's wrist, and then admired the way the white, green, and multicolored crystals sparkled.

"Keeping with the theme of spring, your bracelet has three charms that represent different aspects of the human holiday of Easter."

Delenn nodded. "I've read about this Easter of yours. Do you wish us to practice that tradition, John? Is that why you gave me this . . . charm?"

"In part, yes. There are aspects of Easter I would like to share with you and our child, but there's no rush. Actually, that's kind of what I'm getting to. Take a look here, Delenn."

She did, giving him her full attention, the way she always did when John spoke. "The white charm depicts a rabbit, often called a bunny. It symbolizes birth, reproduction, or fertility." John patted his hand against Delenn's tiny protrusion. "I've already planted that particular seed, so maybe the bunny is redundant."

"Ah," Delenn said with a laugh. "I took your words too literally the other day. You had me thinking you had intentions of burying plant seeds somewhere on the compound grounds."

John also laughed. "No, honey, I may do a little spring cleaning, or try my hand at cooking, but I draw the line at horticulture. Look," he said, raising his thumb, "it's not green."

Delenn shook her head. "One thing at a time, John, I don't think I've released enough pin'cha to cope with deciphering human symbolism and sayings at the same time."

Delenn was right, and the last thing John wanted to do was initiate a mood swing. Thanks to his magic fingers, he'd been mood swing free for nearly thirty-six hours.

"You're right. Okay, the multicolored crystal is an Easter egg. Eggs also represent birth but they are often boiled and dyed to be used in a children's ritual called an egg hunt. When our child is old enough, maybe two or three, I'll show you both how it's played. It's simple really. Liz and I used to have great fun trying to outdo each other, the farm ideal for having a good old-fashioned Sunday egg hunt."

"Easter egg," Delenn repeated, gazing at the charm with interest. "I've also read about Easter eggs and the hunt. I won't pretend to understand how searching for the dead offspring of a chicken is considered entertaining, or why humans allow their children to beg neighbors for sugary snacks while dressed in strange, ghoulish costumes."

"My god, Delenn, is that all you got out of my description of Halloween? It's so much more to it than that. Besides," John said, feeling the need to defend the holiday, although begging wasn't so far off track, "it's a perfectly good tradition."

He should've known the Halloween conversation would come back to bite him in the ass. John blamed the sleep watching ritual and its damn restrictions. How was a man supposed to get any sleep with the woman, he'd most wanted to see naked, stretched out in his chair wearing nothing but his bathrobe? So, yeah, they'd talked and talked and talked. And somewhere in all that talking he'd foolishly mentioned Halloween and trick-or-treating, and he and Liz's day after chocolate hangover.

"If you say so, John," Delenn responded, her face showing doubt. "So you'll teach our child how to locate dead chicken eggs that have been dipped in dye?"

John squinted at his wife. "The chickens aren't dead," he huffed. "Okay, okay, yes, they're technically dead, but no deader than they would be if we scrambled and ate them for breakfast."

"At least then they're deaths would serve a purpose. What purpose is served with this Easter egg hunt?"

John eyed his wife carefully, waiting for the smile that had to be hidden behind her disapproving words. "The last charm," John said, pointing to the green one and ignoring her comment, "is a plant. As you already know, plants symbolize life."

Delenn held her arm up, the silver bracelet shiny in its newness, the three spring charms accentuating her lovely, pale wrist. "You gave me two charms that symbolize birth and reproduction, and one that represents life. You know, John," Delenn started, her gaze trapping him, "I'm only capable of carrying one child at a time. If you want others, I think we should wait until the first is born before we have that discussion."

"W-what? Delenn, I can barely keep up with you now. Between the mood swings, vaccination shots, abstinence, and the pin'cha hormone, I don't think I'll survive another pregnancy—''

And she began to laugh, hearty wails accompanied by genuine, bust-your-gut laugh tears.

"Oh, Delenn, that's not fair." And it wasn't. John had planned everything he wanted to say; down to the symbolic rationale for the gift that would have Delenn so moved, she wouldn't question the expense or extravagance. Hell, John even imagined a few shed tears at Delenn's very sensitive and loving husband. Well, John got the tears all right, and mocking laughter to boot.

Delenn kissed John's cheek and stood. "I love the charm bracelet, John. It's sweet and will remind me that not every woman is blessed with the opportunity to create life, the rabbit, Easter egg, and plant perfect in their symbolism. It's a most thoughtful Mother's Day gift."

John opened his mouth wordlessly and Delenn laughed at him again. "Your mother sent me congratulations on my first Mother's Day earlier in the week. We talked for a while and she explained the tradition to me and how much she always loved your gifts, especially when you gave her jewelry."

"That's not fair," John repeated, feeling duped, his mother having let the air out of his spring balloon.

"Now," Delenn said, beginning to unbutton her robe, her voice that aroused pitch John knew so well, "my memory is failing me; I need your assistance."

John jumped to his feet, already pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing his pride in the face of something so much more rewarding. "The forget-me-not room?"

"Oh, yes, I feel myself remembering already."

"In case you need help; allow me."

Chapter 6: Saturday

John was silently pleased with himself, the smug expression hidden by the darkness of the den, Delenn's warm body snuggled so close to his he could feel the tickle of her breath against his neck, the L-shaped beige, suede-like sectional comfortable and large enough to accommodate his tall frame.

He'd moved them into the den ten minutes ago after Delenn managed to eat and keep down a bowl of soup and saltine crackers. It was his mother's recipe, and she guaranteed him it would work. And it did, his wife sated and feeling damn good against his hard body.

This early spring was working out better than John thought, Delenn slowly returning to herself, the ice caps melting, giving way to sunny days ahead.

He'd planned an old-fashioned picnic for them, the spacious grounds and large mossy trees perfect for a romantic getaway, but it began to rain mid-day and hadn't let up, leaving John to alter his plans. So he moved the picnic to the living room floor, complete with scented candles, slow jazz, and a well-worn, much loved afghan blanket his Nana knitted for him when her fingers were still straight and precise, not gnarled from age and arthritis.

While John couldn't give Delenn the outdoor picnic experience he desired, he made do. And he was still making do, movies, especially drive-ins, a foreign notion to Minbaris. Even for humans, drive-ins were a relic of the past, except in some small towns, like his, that sought to preserve pop culture through creative reenactments. So, John had spent many a Saturday night at the drive-in, ignoring movies too old to be of interest to a teenager, lips and hands fastened on his girlfriend, praying she'd finally let him make it to second base.

John looked around, the den was no drive-in, but again, he would make do.

"What is this movie about, John?" Delenn questioned, raising her head from his shoulder, eyes a curious shade of gray, her black robe gaping enough for John to take a thorough, appreciative look, second base hovering over the horizon.

"Umm, well, honey," he murmured, forcing himself to focus on her words and not how good Delenn's nipples would taste in his mouth.

Get your mind out of the gutter, John. You have twenty-four more hours and she'll be all yours. Just keep it together until then.

"When I was a boy, my mom and dad collected what humans once called movies. They were very similar to the vids we have today. Some were funny, scary, dramatic, adventurous, sappy, and just plain stupid. They gave a glimpse into the world back then, the story often reflecting whatever was going on."

Delenn shifted, her hand going to John's thigh, small fingers gently massaging, an unconscious gesture that made those twenty-four hours feel like twenty-four days.

Focus, John. She's just interested in the story. You know how your wife is, her casual touches are signs of love and affection, not neon lights blinking, Take Me Now.

"What's wrong?" she asked, John having not realized he had stopped talking and was just staring at Delenn. Staring at her rosy, kissable lips that she'd just wet with her tongue, causing John to suck in a breath, fighting against the image that just popped into his head. Too late. Shit. There was no way third base was on the table tonight, because what he was envisioning now required the juice of the gods, which gave John a very naughty idea about Sunday night and a very special Easter basket.

"Ah, nothing," John said, picking up and kissing Delenn's roving hand, keeping it in his, stopping the torture before she realized the effect she was having on him. "Mom used to make us watch the movies as a way for us to spend time together as a family. At some garage sale, my dad found a movie from 2008. The data crystal was pretty beat up and dirty, but for a buck, it was a deal. Besides, it made for the oldest, rarest movie in their humble collection."

"Your father discovered a movie that was hundreds of years old?"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool, and once he'd cleaned it up he made us all gather in the den, like we are now," he said, squeezing the captured hand, "and watch."

"What was it called?" Delenn's eyes sparkled with intense interest. God, she was beautiful, so open and full of genuine curiosity.

"Cherry Blossoms."

"Cherry Blossoms," she repeated. "Cherries are red fruits grown on your planet, are they not?"

John nodded. "But the movie wasn't about the fruit but the flower known as cherry blossoms."

"I've never heard of such a flower." She thought a minute, and then added, "I'd never heard of forget-me-nots either but I now count them among my favorite flowers." Delenn removed her hand from John's and placed it back on his thigh, renewing her slow, tortuous caress. And John could now see the erotic twinkle in his wife's deceptively innocent eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. God help him, Sunday couldn't come soon enough.

"Yeah, well." He cleared his throat and said pointedly, "If you intend on making it to Sunday with your honor still intact, as well as that nice robe of yours, I suggest we keep our hands to ourselves."

Delenn didn't argue. She simply blushed and removed her hand. "Please continue, John, I have no desire to explain to my doctor why my pin'cha level is low."

"You mean . . . ?"

Delenn nodded. "The level increases the longer a woman goes without sexual release. Based on the three week mandate we were given, she'll expect a certain amount." Delenn's face reddened even more. "As it is, she'll likely wonder about the declining difference in my hormone level from my last visit. Which was two days before the . . . ah, hot tub." And, yes, her face was now scarlet.

Yeah, John wouldn't be seeing second base tonight. It was for the best, he convinced himself, the last thing he needed was to have Delenn's doctor glowering at him as if he was nothing more than an oversexed human.

Delenn smiled, and then said, "Tell me more about the movie."

Good. They were back on track.

"My mother loved the movie and used to watch it over and over. Personally, I never could figure out what she saw in the movie. It was boring, if you ask me. But when I unpacked the other day, I found the data crystal wedged in with some of my stuff she'd sent me when I became captain of Babylon 5. I never even bothered to open the box. I guessed I just shoved it in the back of my closet and forgot about it."

"Until you unearthed it during your spring cleaning," Delenn mocked.

"Hey, spring cleaning is a very good tradition. It may not involve prayers, candles, and special foods, but it gets the job done."

"Of course it does, John, and the house is beautiful." Her words held no mockery this time, just a sincere compliment.

He wanted to thank her with a kiss, but he refrained, the fruit forbidden, an apple in the Garden of Eden.

John smiled back instead. "Anyway, I found it Tuesday and decided to watch it again for old time sake. I only intended to watch a few minutes of it, which was all I could ever really stomach, but I found myself inexplicably drawn to it. It was as if I was seeing it through new eyes. As an impatient kid, I couldn't appreciate the depth and meaning of the movie. It was so beyond my experience that I couldn't latch on to the power of the story, the symbolism. When I watched it the other day I felt like it was produced with me in mind."

And it did, the story so close to him as to be frightening. And, no, John normally didn't believe in coincidence or even fate. But since meeting and marrying Delenn, he had revisited his ideas about fate. And fate it had to be, for there was no other reason to explain why that movie would show up now, in his possession when his own fate was irrevocably set in stone.

John began to explain. "The Japanese have a term, "mono no aware," which refers to the fleeting nature of the world. This aesthetic and spiritual concept conveys the slender sadness of the human condition. We desire permanence but everything is constantly changing. Despite our efforts to control things, there is nothing we can cling to or hold on to. It is best to savor the moment of beauty as it passes in the tender loving touch of a lover, in the purr of an adoring and peaceful cat, in the energetic leap of a dancer, in the gentle swaying of trees in the breeze."

Delenn settled back against his shoulder, her long, brown hair twisted into a lovely French braid.

"The impermanence of life is at the core of Cherry Blossoms," he continued, twirling a stray lock of her hair around his index finger, "an exquisite German film directed by Doris Dorrie. A wonderful sequence in the story takes place during the cherry blossom season at the beginning of spring in Japan. Hanami is celebrated for about ten days as families, friends, and visitors gather under trees while their pink and white flowers are in full bloom. The cherry blossom is seen as a symbol of beauty, awakening, and the transience of life. In a haiku, Issa has written:

'In the cherry blossoms' shade
There is no such thing as a stranger.' ''

John looked down at Delenn and asked, "Do you understand so far, honey?"

"I think so."

"I don't want to ruin the movie for you, but I think if I explain it first, it will make a lot more sense to you when we watch it."

"I think that will help, John, please proceed."

"The main characters, Trudi and Rudi have been married for many years and live in a small Bavarian town. She is a dreamer interested in the arts and adventure. He works as a civil servant in the Department of Waste Management. She wanted to become a dancer and move to Japan. He is very much caught up in the regular routines of his life which he follows diligently: taking the train to work and eating a sandwich and an apple for lunch. She desires change, and he fears change. Despite their differences, they have forged a strong marriage and live alone now that their three children are grown."

"Did this Trudi and Rudi remind you of us?" Delenn asked. She took one of the white throw pillows and situated it on John's lap before reclining on it, her head propped on the pillow, eyes looking at him, awaiting his answer.

"I did see a lot of us in them, not a mirror image, of course, but enough to make me think, to ponder my existence, the twenty years I have left."

This was a subject they rarely talked about, the seed he planted when John made that fateful leap into the abyss, only to be reborn, renewed—winter morphing into spring.

When he'd watched Cherry Blossoms for the first time in years, John knew it was a sign to address a very difficult topic, the movie perfect in its symbolism. If Delenn was to see her shadow, look past the ugliness that was winter, and embrace spring in all its forms and imperfections, they could finally begin their life together, appreciating the time they have together, instead of lamenting the time fate didn't see fit to grant them.

Delenn looked away from him but didn't move. "Go on."

"Learning that Rudi only has a short time to live, Trudi convinces him to take a trip to Berlin to visit two of their children. He reluctantly agrees to go but is not excited by the journey. While she struggles to find the right moment to tell her husband about his imminent death, their two children, a son with wife and kids, and a lesbian daughter and her lover, only have a limited amount of time to give to their parents. They make it quite clear that they have little in common across the generations."

John paused, waiting for Delenn to ask him to define lesbian, the word coming out of his mouth without thought. But she said nothing, nor did she question the idea of a generational divide, children not honoring their parents and all that, a clear contradiction to the Minbari ideal.

"Even though we are the same people," Delenn began just when John was about to continue, "the caste system inherently fosters differences, but such differences are no cause for contention if we all understand that dissimilarity doesn't mean unequal or inferior. During the Minbari civil war, we had forgotten that."

Delenn said it so plainly as if it was the simplest thing in the world to do and understand. For her, John knew it was. And that was why he had no trouble finding her a replacement for Lennier. He hadn't set out to acquire Delenn three aides, one from each caste. But when he'd inquired of her uncle, Calleen, John had unknowingly set a snow ball in motion, and it hurdled itself down the hill, building in force and intensity until it crashed into him at the bottom.

By the end of the day, representatives from six members of the Grey Council, offering cousins, daughters, nieces, and sisters, had contacted John. Not wanting to offend, John reluctantly selected one young woman from each caste, hoping that would be a strong enough sign of respect for all three castes.

But he had lost a lot of sleep over Delenn's response. Even if she wasn't suffering from emotional whiplash, she wouldn't take his replacing Lennier lightly. But to his ever-loving surprise, she didn't divorce or kill him. Instead, she'd seemed inordinately pleased with the gesture, the young women slowly tearing down that wall she'd built around herself.

And, no, she didn't fail to notice that John selected only females. In fact, that was his top criteria when he'd spoken with Calleen, who seemed to understand without explanation. "Sometimes," Calleen had said quietly, "young, inexperienced males find it difficult to distinguish between hero worship and love." And maybe that defined Lennier, but John wasn't taking any chances, no more moonie-eyed male acolytes for Delenn.

"My sweet, idealist," John said. He ran a finger from Delenn's temple to the edge of her bonecrest, dipping into one of the grooves and gently stroking. Delenn closed her eyes, and then sighed.

"John," her voice was low, coming out in a soft purr, "have you forgotten what you learned during the Shan'Fal, or are you simply taking the opportunity to pay me back for earlier?"

"What?"

Delenn grasped his wandering hand, pulled it to her mouth, and kissed.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, honey. I wasn't thinking. Okay, then, where was I?" It was a rhetorical question and Delenn waited quietly for him to remember where he'd left off in the story.

Finally, John regained his bearings and began again. "Trudi decides to leave Berlin for a visit to the Baltic Sea, a place she finds romantic and soothing. While they are there, she unexpectedly dies peacefully in her sleep. Rudi returns to their home and is unable to cope with his feelings of loneliness and guilt. For the first time in his life, he realizes that he never really honored Trudi's deepest yearnings. Since her life always pointed to Japan, he decides to visit his youngest son, Karl, who lives and works in Tokyo."

"That's so sad," Delenn said, and John swore he saw the faintest sheen of tears in her eyes, the dim light of the room hooding her features, much the way it did his earlier.

"I read, Delenn, that Dorrie was a spiritually sensitive German film director who had made a remarkable and touching film about impermanence, death, grief, and the healing power of creativity. With a Zen appreciation of small details, the drama was peppered with magical cinematic moments involving water, mountains, dandelions, flies, and cherry blossoms. The story of Rudi's spiritual journey to Japan unfolds slowly, and the audience is able to sense the courage it takes for him to make such a trip in order to commune in a very real way with Trudi. Karl, who has never been close to his father, spends a lot of time at work. He misses his mother and like Rudi regrets that he wasn't more attentive to her."

Delenn laughed. "Beloved, it sounds like you memorized a vid review."

"I did, you couldn't possibly think I sounded like that much of a Religious Caste Minbari without some help."

"Anyway, honey, I'm almost finished. Just listen and maybe I will amaze you even more with my miraculous ability to memorize large quantities of text."

Delenn laughed, but said no more.

"Rudi is delighted to be in Tokyo during Hanami, cherry blossom time. In an interview the filmmaker stated that one has to give love a chance to reveal itself in its greatest pain and strength. That's why the Japanese sit under the cherry blossoms, because they are tremendously beautiful when they are blooming. At the same time, the pain over the fact that this period of blossoming is short-lived is tremendous as well. One has to catch the moment when they are actually blossoming, that's why they have people monitoring the trees. Because, if you miss that particular moment, that's it, for an entire year or possibly forever. In love, one has to keep at it, one has to give it the chance to blossom and, when it does, one has to actually be there to appreciate it. That's what it's all about; that each person, each plant, each animal is granted a moment when it can truly blossom and reveal itself. But what often happens to us, and to Rudi, is that we just keep suppressing it. We never allow our true self and our true beauty to reveal itself, to blossom like the cherry tree does."

When John finished, Delenn sat up, and he could see the tears clearly now, falling onto her pale cheeks, her hand going to his own, before sliding behind his neck, pulling herself to him in a forceful embrace. And then John spoke, words Delenn would speak to him in her future, his past. "Treasure the moments you have; savor them for as long as you can, for they will never come back again."

Chapter 7: Sunday

John fidgeted nervously as he watched Delenn take in their bedroom, the new improved bedroom, as far as John was concerned. Delenn had risen early that morning, getting in a couple of meetings before her doctor's appointment; John still amazed how Minbari had nothing in their culture that would constitute a weekend. That was just wrong on so many levels. But it also explained why Delenn had given him such an unfathomable look when he'd suggested a five-day work week for Alliance business. Yeah, that had been an interesting cultural exchange.

"Is this why you decided not to attend my appointment with me?" Delenn asked, turning from the room to face him, "Why you had Ranger Tannier deliver a vial of your blood to Dr. Fulan this morning?" She looked adorable today, John thought, whenever Delenn shed her normal work robes in favor of her more simple, form fitting ones. Today, she wore a white robe with pearl beads for buttons that opened at the top, dipping into a high V, meeting at the fitted waist, and flowing in soft ripples down her legs.

John nodded, and then stepped closer. "Do you like it, honey?" God, John hoped she did. Between the cost and the labor, John was ready to put in for another week off. He was too old for all he'd done this week. But it was worth it. Every smile, every laugh, every joyful tear, and every loving embrace from Delenn made it all worth it—aches and all. But next spring, John sobered, the house staff wouldn't have to call Delenn behind his back, because there was no way in hell he was doing the spring cleaning all by himself.

Delenn smiled up at him beatifically, her radiance erasing the last shoulder ache, dulling it in to serene throb of husbandly pride. John had given her an early spring, the groundhog finally seeing its shadow, the long winter night finally over.

"It's," Delenn gestured to the room, walking away from him as she began to explore, "lovely, John, reminds me of your bedroom on Babylon 5." Delenn glanced down at the most obvious similarity. "I was unaware you ordered a human bed from Earth." She moved closer, head tilting to the right and then the left. "It's much larger than the one on the station."

She raised her head and their eyes met, and John cleared his throat. "Well, um, honey, human beds come in various sizes—twin, full, double—depending on the size of the person or the . . . um need."

"Need?" she questioned, but posed another before John had a chance to fumble out an answer. "What size bed is this? I know you're tall, but I don't even think you require all that space." Delenn pointed to the bed, then ran her hand over the royal blue bed covering, the color Delenn said she saw when she dreamed of him.

"Well, it's a king-sized bed, Delenn, the largest size in fact."

"And why in the name of Valen do we need such a big bed—Oh," she said, a bright blush forming against all the white she wore, the answer to her question having been quickly worked out in her own mind.

John couldn't help but smile. In some ways, Delenn could be such a prude. Not when it came to making love, thank god, but in other ways, normally situations in which her more sensual side was glaringly obvious because there was no ritual for her to hide behind.

Delenn turned back to the large bed, and ran a hand over her cheek. "It looks c-comfortable."

John wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, wedging himself as close as possible against her, his lips going to her ear. "It does at that, honey. But I can't quite tell from here. I believe a hands-on test is in order."

"You haven't even asked about the results of the test," Delenn said, accepting John's nibbles to her neck with a sweet, low, moan of pleasure.

John bit deeper, sinking his teeth in with just the right amount of pressure, and soothing tongue, forcing Delenn to open her mouth on a gasp. Taking the opportunity given, John quickly spun Delenn around, capturing her mouth and the moan, creating a new one. He kissed her, all mouth and tongue, urgently fastening on to her, dipping inside her wet warmth the way he hadn't been able to do in three frustrating weeks. And it was as delicious as John remembered, her lips soft and firm under his, honeyed breath tingling his nostrils, tongue adventurous and sublime.

Delenn kissed him back, her fervor no less than his own. She wrapped those thin but amazingly strong arms around his neck, pulling John down to her, deepening the kiss, claiming his mouth with ardor. "How did you know?" Delenn murmured when they came up for air.

"You aren't breathing fire at me or the universe. In my mind, that's a big thumbs up that I can do this—''

John captured her lips again, his hands going to Delenn's head, gently tilting to better explore her mouth, feel her body as she melted into him, running exploratory hands under his shirt, burning him with her touch when flesh met flesh.

Abruptly, John ripped his mouth away from hers, causing Delenn to stare up at him in surprise, lust rimming her eyes. God, he was going to have to make this quick, for there was no way in hell he could hold off long with her looking at him like that, the scent of her desire calling to him—glorious nectar to a starving bee.

"Sit, please, Delenn," John said, moving around her and to the bed. He patted a spot on the left side of the bed, her side. She sat, her gaze never leaving his, and John couldn't help it; his eyes slid to her mouth, swollen slightly from his ardent kisses. How he'd missed those lips these past few weeks, kissing a staple of his Babylon 5 diet before the Shan'Fal.

John quickly turned away from Delenn. He walked to his closet, opened the tinted glass door, and retrieved an item from the bottom. Holding the item by the handle, John walked back to Delenn, who was now eyeing him and the gift with curious, wide orbs.

Before Delenn could ask the obvious question, John said, "It's an Easter basket."

Delenn glanced down at her charm bracelet. "Another symbol?"

John sat beside Delenn, the basket on his lap. "On Earth, humans celebrate Easter in a variety of ways. In my family, like many families, my parents always had an Easter basket waiting for us when we woke Easter morning. Liz and I would scramble out of bed and hustle down to the living room to see what the Easter bunny had left for us."

"Easter bunny?"

"Yeah, well, it's one of those legends human parents pass on to their children, about a giant bunny hopping from house to house, bestowing gifts of small toys and chocolates."

"Like this Santa Claus of yours?" Delenn questioned, the slightest of frowns forming. Yeah, a minor version of the way she looked when he'd explained Christmas. Something else he would have to review with her once their child was born, for there was no way a Sheridan would go without Santa, a tree, or Christmas.

"So," she began, clearly picking up his train of thought, "you intend on regaling our child with traditions that involve an overly large rabbit that dispenses chocolates to kids, an overweight man in a red costume who manages to traverse the planet in one night while being pulled by flying mammals, and an Easter basket full of sweets." Delenn shook her head. "No wonder your Easter bunny and Saint Nicholas are so large, all human holidays seem to involve the consumption of sugary, tooth decaying, and waist expanding foods."

Delenn tried to peer into the basket, a sheet of colored tissue paper covering the top. "While I expect to gain some weight during this pregnancy, I don't intend, however, to do it by filling my body with sweet, human treats. Although," she admitted, "I have had the strangest craving for that strawberry shortcake you used to order for me whenever we managed to make it to the Fresh Aire." Delenn gave the basket another wondering look. "You wouldn't happen to have one in that basket of yours, would you, John?"

His wife. Sometimes it was best just to let her speak and not interrupt or disagree, especially when it came to human culture and customs. In the end, it worked out better for the both of them. Delenn vented, questioned, and complained, and John was invariably rewarded by her eventual acquiescence.

"You know, Delenn," he said with a mischievous grin, "just for that, I should keep my Easter basket to myself. Clearly my wife doesn't appreciate a husband who spends three hours trolling downtown Tuzanor for the perfect gift."

John made to rise, but Delenn stopped him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down.

"I think, John," Delenn said, leaning in to give him a kiss, "that you best allow me to open my gift before I rain fire down on you."

"Ah, my dragon awakens," John laughed, then handed Delenn the wicker basket trimmed in yellow, pink, and white silk strips.

Before Delenn removed the tissue paper, she gave John a serious look. "Valen once said, a gift is what one receives when they live their life in the service of others without expectation of glory, honor, or reciprocity. The most treasured of gifts are those not given out of duty, fealty, or pride, but those given because of love, devotion, and sacrifice."

Delenn touched John's cheek then, her small hand gliding over his face, finger sliding down to trace his lips.

"Open the gift, Delenn," John croaked with deep emotion, "before you cause us both to turn into watering pots, as my Nana used to say."

Delenn smiled, wiped a stray tear, and then removed the green tissue paper. Her eyes widened in surprise, and John was beginning to love that expression on her, a clear sign he had done something right. And beside the wide eyes she'd given him when she'd seen the mess he'd made of their living room, all the others this week were brimmed with blissful happiness.

And, no, John knew not to fill his wife's Easter basket with eggs, candy, flowers, or any other trinket she would find useless and trivial. Instead, he'd given her a very practical gift, one a logical person, such as Delenn, could appreciate.

Slowly, Delenn removed each item, cradling each one reverently before placing it back into the basket: Premur, a simple flatbread favored by the Worker Caste during their morning prayer break. According to the baker from whom John purchased the bread, it is very tasty and perfect for pregnant women. Two pouches of black ris, a spicy tea Delenn likes to drink before her evening prayer. Three packs of white ardmin, Minbari candles used in meditation. One black iss'hedin, a mid-thigh Minbari undergarment; sexy to be sure, but more tasteful than the lingerie John had purchased for Delenn while they were on Babylon 5. The ones she said would make her feel "silly," if she were to wear them.

John had given each gift considerable thought, wanting to get Delenn something she would not only like but use. However, one gift was more for him than for her.

Delenn opened the pale pink crystal vial, twisting the stopper, and smelling. She smiled. "Water lily and orange blossom," she said, translating the scents into English for him."

"The light floral fragrance reminded me of you, honey. Once I smelled it, I knew I had to buy it for you." And John knew exactly where he wanted to place the perfume. But he was getting ahead of himself. Not too far ahead, but he had one other gift to give her.

"It smells wonderful." Delenn took another deep whiff, enjoying the aroma, before replacing the stopper, and inserting the perfume bottle back into the basket with her other gifts.

John removed the basket from Delenn's lap and set it on the floor.

"I have one other thing I'd like to share with you, but I ask that you keep an open mind."

Delenn looked worried. "You didn't cook me flarn again, did you, John?"

John gave her a self-deprecating smile before taking her in his arms, kissing her lightly. "I've missed kissing you, your aiva on mine."

John situated them both on the bed, removing shoes and clothing first.

"I've also missed your aiva, your lips as well. I see you've been paying attention."

"Oh yes, Delenn, when you speak, I definitely listen, especially when I learn words like kas'zha," John whispered, kissing Delenn again, pressing her naked body into the new, firm mattress."

"Kas'zha," Delenn repeated on a moan. "We haven't done that in three weeks. I think perhaps I've forgotten how."

"Oh, baby, I intend to remind you. As often as I can, for as long as I can."

"Promises, promises," Delenn joked. But her laughter was quickly turned into a hiss of pleasure when John began a slow trek down her body, showing her he missed kissing more than her mouth.

Third base, John thought when he reached Delenn's hairless center. And while John had known the pleasure of giving oral stimulation, he'd discovered there was something so erotic about a woman who never had to shave, body perpetually smooth, with heightened sensitivity to the slightest tickle, kiss, or lick.

John fingered his freshly trimmed beard, figuring he had enough hair for the both of them. He kissed her belly button, darting his tongue around the cute center, waiting for the reaction he knew would follow.

And there it was, a resolute hand in his hair, strong fingers gently massaging, his scalp inordinately sensitive to Delenn's practiced touch. John leaned to the right slightly, fumbling until he found what he was looking for, Delenn's left leg flung over the side of the bed.

John opened the bottle of perfume and dabbed a few drops under each breast, on her wrists, under each knee, and inside both thighs.

"Do you like the way that feels, honey?" John asked. "You smell like a garden, my personal flower in bloom. My rose," he said, kissing her inner thigh, Delenn's only response was a shallow whimper, her left leg going up and over his right shoulder.

John kissed the other thigh, lingering this time, pressing teeth, tongue, and lips into the delicate skin, raising gooseflesh, Delenn's hips instinctively rising.

"You like that?" John asked again, knowing Delenn wouldn't answer, her silence louder than any scream. No, Delenn was a quiet lover, not reserved, just quiet. That is until she climaxes, then her screams could blow the top off any Minbari temple.

John had every intention of making his wife scream, hoarse in fact, preferably with his name scorching both their ears. Three weeks. Yeah, those pin'cha levels would be off the charts once John finished with Delenn. Take that damn toxic hormone, requiring three shots in the ass.

"I wrote a teela for you, Delenn."

That got her attention, though she struggled to rise, reclining on her elbows, looking down her body and at John.

"A poem?"

"Don't look so surprised, honey, I do know a little of poetry."

"Not surprised, John, just honored you would compose a teela for me."

John wondered if she would feel honored after he'd finished the recitation.

"Lay back, honey, and just listen. It's not very long."

Delenn complied, relaxing against the down pillows, and John settled himself comfortably between her legs.

"You once told me all life is precious when I gave you roses for Valentine's Day. Human males typically give flowers, jewelry, or candy to the woman they love on special occasions. You rarely eat sweets, indulge my jewelry giving, and refuse to accept flowers that were plucked only to give the receiver a few days of aromatic pleasure, while denying the flower its life force."

John kissed a particularly sensitive spot on Delenn's calf, smiling when she twitched; curling her toes as he licked upward, stopping only inches from where he knew Delenn wanted him. His wife never shy about giving or receiving.

"Then I realized there was no need to give you roses when you're my personal rose garden, a single bud that will blossom under the right stimuli."

John blew on her, warm breath followed by exploring fingers, navigating the flower, the bud hidden, petals closed, awaiting the sunlight.

"You are my rose, an untouched flower, a delectable pistil, waiting for my pollen, waiting for me. You are my rose, exquisite in form and fragrance, better to taste than allow to sit and go to waste. You are my rose, petals wet with dew, opening to the morning shower, opening to me."

And John made to open his flower, soaking them in his dew. But then Delenn's body began to shake, and it wasn't from a climax.

John leaned up on his elbows and he saw it. And heard it. Dammit, Delenn was laughing. At him. Again.

"What the hell, Delenn?"

"John, I'm s-sorry, but that had to be the worst teela I have ever heard."

John harrumphed, pushing himself up further until he rest completely overtop of his wife.

"That's the thanks I get for pouring my heart out, trying to set the mood, give you pleasure."

"John," Delenn said, squirming with purpose under him, reminding John exactly where his body was in proportion to hers, "you know exactly how to give me pleasure." She tilted her hips up, emphasizing her point, and grazing in to his. "So, let's just add poetry to the same category as cooking—things John Sheridan should leave to the professionals."

Delenn did something else amazing with her hips, and John was lost; poorly written teela and mocking laughter forgotten.

"I believe," John said, taking the tempting offer, claiming fourth base, finally, "that I've planted quite a few seeds this week."

"You want an Easter basket, John?" Delenn asked with a sly, sensual grin, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Or maybe you want me to have that giant bunny of yours bring you boiled colored eggs and chocolaty treats. Better yet," she said, trying desperately to keep the moan from her voice, eyes from rolling in her head, John's movements punishingly accurate, hitting that sensitive bud every time his wife taunted him, "we can have a chimney added on to the house and invite Santa Claus and his elves for tea, and you can wear a scary Halloween mask, and—Oh John, right there. Valen, how I've missed this, missed you. Please, John, don't stop"

"Oh, baby, I have no intention of stopping. You feel so damn good, so hot, so tight. And you're all mine, my flower, my spring."

John loved to hear Delenn moan her pleasure, pleased he could give her such joy. And he would continue to do so, in the bed and without, spreading his rays of sunshine, bringing her spring every day until his cold, winter nap took him from her.

But until then, John Sheridan would love Delenn of Mir, and John knew once he passed beyond the Rim, Delenn would forget him not.

THE END