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"