Babylon 5 1. Some Must Watch While Some Must Sleep

Some Must Watch While Some Must Sleep

Ivanova required very few things. Food. It didn't have to be good, it just had to be there. Somewhere to sleep. It didn't have to be comfortable, it just had to be there. A job. It didn't have to be interesting, it just had to be there. That's what she required. What she preferred was a different story. Normally she didn't think much about what she ate, but every now and then she'd find herself missing some Earth food seemingly out of the blue; today she couldn't stop thinking about the apple walnut strudel she used to buy from a street vendor in Prague during one of her summers there. The lumpy porridge she'd eaten in the mess this morning was truly dreadful, especially since she was thinking of flaky pastry and warm gooey filling and perfect crunchy nuts, and watching Sheridan happily gobble the porridge down with a smile on his face hadn't helped.

Normally, Ivanova preferred her CO to be happy. Relaxed. Getting along with the crew, doing his job, everything nice and easy. She preferred that to pretty much every alternative, maybe even more than she preferred her subordinates doing what she asked before she had the chance to ask. But today...they were both in C and C, dealing with some truly spectacular docking bay snafu, and she would have been annoyed anyway. But to see Sheridan standing beside her, smiling out at the universe like some benevolent minor god, a sign above his head flashing "got some!" It was just too much. It was enough to make your teeth ache.

"So? You gonna spill?"

"Spill what?" he asked, and she was surprised the grin didn't wrap around his whole head. She cocked her head at him, glared her very best glare, but it just bounced off that smile.

"Yesterday I was afraid you were going to march down to the Zocolo and just start shooting. Today I'm afraid you're going to march down to the Zocolo and just start hugging. Also, you gave me the code. That code is never to be used except in the utmost of need. Using my keen deductive reasoning, I conclude that you solved your girl problem last night. So. You gonna spill?"

Sheridan turned back to the console, ordered a Drazi ship to back off, then just sighed. Ivanova had never heard a more girly sound in her entire life.

"Captain?"

"No."

"Oh, come on!"

xxx

They were on their way up to Medlab. There'd been a minor scuffle in Brown Sector, a security guard had been roughed up, and Sheridan wanted to check on him. Ivanova wracked her brain trying to figure out who his new conquest was. What women had she seen the Captain around lately? There was Jensen, whose communications console was close to the Captain's console in C and C. But no, he'd walked right by her several times this morning and hadn't once glanced her way. One of the pilots? But the more she thought about it, the more she just couldn't picture him sleeping with an officer, someone under his command. A civvie? She didn't think this was a one-night stand kind of thing; he'd been stewing and fretting over whoever she was for a couple days, and Ivanova couldn't even imagine when he'd have had time recently to meet and then worry about a civilian.

Then they'd passed Ambassador Delenn in the corridor, and Sheridan's head had swung around like it was a magnet and the Minbari was the North Pole. Delenn had looked at him with coquettish eyes, and Ivanova was sure she'd seen tiny pink hearts appear in the air between the two of them.

Shit shit shit. This was the last thing she needed to deal with. If ISN found out, it would be the biggest story since Santiago's assassination. Starkiller, making time with Minbar's ambassador to Babylon 5. The hell was he thinking?

xxx

She sulked her way into security, still trying to figure out what to do about Sheridan and Delenn. Ivanova knew it would end up on her desk, whatever the fall-out turned out to be, and that there would be fall-out she had no doubt. Garibaldi was lounging behind his desk, reading reports. He glanced up at her, then he was on his feet, eyes wide.

"So? Did you find out? Who is it?"

"Don't know."

"Damn. I actually spent half an hour watching him on secure cam today; he was walking on a mission somewhere, and I thought, this is it, but he ended up just going to Green Sector."

"I think we should just let him be," Ivanova said, studying her nails. "Let him have some privacy."

Garibaldi got very quiet then, and Ivanova cursed herself. The Chief got up in her face, nodding slowly, then held up a finger. Pointed it at her. Damn it. "You know. You know who it is."

"I don't know who it is!"

"You know. Tell me. Tell me!"

"Tell him what?" They both spun around, and Sheridan was leaning against the door as casual as could be.

"Michael's in a fever to figure out what I got him for his birthday," Ivanova lied smoothly, not a pause or a single tell. She could see that Sheridan had completely forgotten about Garibaldi's birthday next week, and that in his embarrassment his own suspicions about what they'd been discussing would be forgotten. Why hadn't she roped him into a poker game yet? He was an open book, and she could clean him out.

"Right. Yeah, I've picked out something pretty special, too. Anyway, just thought I'd check in before I turned in for the night." They both shook their heads, and Sheridan smiled again, turned and left. Ivanova wanted to punch him right in the throat. Smug happy bastard.

"If he's going back to his own quarters alone then I've got a full head of hair," Garibaldi said, sitting down in front of the secure cam screens, hitting buttons until Sheridan came up, striding through the station.

"Michael, just let him be."

"Look, there's always the possibility that someone's going to go after him, some crazy. If he's seeing someone, she could be a target. I should know who she is, just in case."

Ivanova leaned over Garibaldi's chair, watching Sheridan steadily make his way toward Green Sector. "That's not the reason you want to know, and you know it."

"You're right. I have just got to find out who's responsible for the shit-eating grin he's had on his face all day. Huh. I didn't see him answer his link. He's going back to Green Sector." Ivanova waited. One thousand one, one thousand two. "Green Sector. He's going...to Green Sector." Then they watched Sheridan ring for entry, rocking back on his heels. Watched the door open, Delenn right behind it. Watched Sheridan check both ways down the corridor, then lean in for a kiss. Watched Delenn laugh, draw him inside.

A long beat of silence.

"Well," Garibaldi said, "I'll be a son of a bitch."

xxx

Tonight Sheridan was going to be a good boy. He was going to sleep, and let Delenn watch him sleep, and he wasn't going to do anything to mess that up. She had bought salads for the two of them, some kind of Minbari pod thing that wasn't half-bad, though he wouldn't want a steady diet of it. They ate at her little table, talked about their day. So utterly domestic. Tonight the thought of her just sitting beside the bed and watching him didn't fill him with any sense of dread; he found himself almost looking forward to it. He could tell it was important to her, and so it had become important to him.

He knew Ivanova had figured it out. He'd been helpless not to stare at Delenn when they passed in the corridor, and Ivanova was sharp as a tack. If she knew, it was only a matter of time before Garibaldi knew. And Franklin would end up batting his big brown eyes and one of the two of them would surrender. That was okay. He didn't mind the three of them knowing; they'd keep it to themselves. Sheridan had kind of wanted to keep it a secret for awhile, something for just him and Delenn to share, but it obviously wasn't meant to be.

They had finished eating, and he was washing the dishes. Delenn came up behind him, put her arms around his waist, and rested her head between his shoulder blades. The slight pressure of her bone crest was surprisingly comforting.

"I'm very happy," she said, and he could feel her warm breath through his white shirt.

"Me, too. I think I'm probably more happy." He could feel her head shaking against his back, telling him _no_. His face hurt from smiling. He'd only felt this way twice before, and both those memories were unavoidably clouded by what had happened afterward; this memory was going to stay perfect. He would remember these first days with her when he was an old man, and wonder that he had been so lucky.

Sheridan dried off the last dish, and turned in the circle of her arms. He drew his fingers through her hair, pulling all of it forward to hang in front of her shoulders, traced the soft curls.

"I am told that human men find hair attractive."

"Yes," he breathed, running his finger along the bottom of her crest, feeling the hairs growing out from it, smiling at the shiver he watched course through her body.

"Why?" He realized that she'd managed to tug his shirt free from his trousers, and now her hands made their way over the bare skin of his lower back. She was drawing little circles with her index fingers, and he had to close his eyes for a second.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just hard-wired in. Same way we..." He hadn't managed to stop himself in time. She looked up at him through her lashes.

"Same way we what? What else do human men find attractive?"

"Well...breasts."

"Breasts. They are masses of tissue used to produce milk and feed infants. What is attractive about them?" He shrugged. How could he explain to an alien why human males liked tits? Delenn glanced down at her own chest. "I'm afraid I don't have much to offer in that respect."

"I beg your pardon."

"It's only the truth."

"It just so happens I prefer quality over quantity, although you shouldn't worry about that, either. Your breasts are perfect." Hmm. Maybe that hadn't been the right way to answer that. She was making eyes at him. "Not that I've been staring. Looking. Not that I've been looking."

"You were quite interested in the hole in my dress during our dinner."

"Was not."

"So," she said, and her fingers were making lazy passes up and down his spine. "What else?"

"Delenn..."

"What else?"

"Legs." She nodded at that, apparently fully aware that her legs were outstanding. She kept looking at him, waiting for more. "The ass."

"You find...no, I know that word. Wait. You find donkeys attractive?" Sheridan slid one hand down, as little pressure as he could, and rested it gently on the rise of her ass. A light tap. She looked at him with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "That? Why?"

He shrugged again, starting to laugh. "The mere fact of its existence, I guess. So what body parts do Minbari find attractive?"

"We do not concern ourselves much with physical appearance. We find intellect attractive, and spirit, and courage." He nodded. Any discussion about the differences between their two cultures usually made him feel like a bit of dolt, although he wondered how much of what she said was totally true, and how much of it was part of the image they wanted everyone to buy into. The Minbari definitely enjoyed thinking of themselves as the most noble of the races.

"But," she said, and tilted her face up to kiss his chin. He smiled, and she drew one hand out of his shirt and placed a finger in his dimple. "I like this." She traced that finger down the bridge of his nose. "And this." His Adam's apple. "And this." Both hands ran along his shoulders. "And these." She took his hands in hers. "And these." He kissed her then, their hands clasped together. Yes. He would carry this memory with him till the day he died.

xxx

Sheridan had smuggled a robe down earlier, folded between stacks of papers and folders. He held it now, and waited for Delenn to emerge from her bedroom so he could change out of his uniform and toss it in the thermal unit. They'd have to stow changes of clothes in each other's quarters; it would make things easier.

She opened her frosted panels, in one of her pretty silk nightgowns, and in the candlelight Delenn looked like some elven princess before him. Less than a week ago he had tossed and turned on the couch he was now sitting on, had been willing to give anything just for the chance to walk through those doors and enter her bedroom. Now he was going to, even if it was for a reason he never would have guessed before last night. Still, he'd like to travel back in time to less-than-a-week-ago Sheridan and give him a slap on the back, tell him just to be patient a little while longer.

"Come in," she said, and he'd never heard anything sweeter in his life. Sheridan walked toward her, and could feel that this was a magical night, could see in her eyes that this was something truly momentous.

Then he saw her bed.

And he tried, he really tried, but he found himself chuckling, then laughing, then guffawing. Finally he leaned over, hands braced on his knees, and hoped he wouldn't suffocate to death here in her bedroom, unable to suck in his next breath. He made himself stand straight, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and got his breathing under control. God almighty.

"What the fuck is that?" he couldn't help but ask, still giggling, and he didn't think he'd ever giggled before in his life, but _Christ_, was that actually her bed? Then he looked at her, and the mirth drained away so quickly it was as though it hadn't been there at all. She looked devastated.

"This is my bed. You don't want to sleep on it." It wasn't a question.

"I'm sorry. God, Delenn, I'm sorry. Of course I want to sleep on it. I just didn't expect it. It's...it's very..."

"Minbari believe that to sleep in the horizontal tempts death." Her voice was tight. Sheridan always tried to respect alien cultures, and usually felt he didn't betray the times when something was just too weird, but he knew he'd fucked this up. "You should undress," she said, going to the corner, pulling a chair over to her bed.

"Let me help you with that."

"I'm fine." She wasn't looking his way, and with a leaden heart, Sheridan turned away.

Inside the head, he stared at himself in the mirror. For whatever reason she was going to continue with the ritual, but he didn't know why. She'd already seen his true face. It was a face that laughed at her, at her customs, at her identity. She wouldn't want to have anything to do with him after this. Numbly, Sheridan took off his rank, his EarthForce insignia, set them down on the little oddments table by the sink. Stripped off each article of clothing and put them in the thermal unit. Pulled on his robe. He leaned over the sink, eyes closed, finding it difficult to summon the courage to go back out there. The metal edge of the sink bit into the palms of his hands. He squeezed as hard as he could, welcoming the pain. He couldn't hide in here forever, but it would be nice to hide just a little longer.

With a sigh, he opened the door. He walked into Delenn's bedroom, eyes toward the chair beside the bed, but it was empty. He turned in a circle, looking. The entire room was empty.

"Delenn?" He stepped out into the front room of her quarters. Empty. Oh, God.

Sheridan stumbled back into her bedroom, sat down heavily in the chair. What had he done? How could he have been such a monumental idiot? He buried his face in his hands, wished a hole would open up in the floor beneath him and swallow him whole.

He heard her door open. She was back from wherever she'd gone. And now she was going to ask him to leave, tell him that she did not wish to 'continue to explore their relationship,' and he would have to walk back to his own quarters knowing that in just a few minutes he had managed to destroy what had swiftly become the most precious thing in the world to him.

She was standing right in front of him. He couldn't make himself look up, couldn't face her. One hand gently pressed his left shoulder, making him sit back in the chair. Sheridan opened his eyes. Her face was veiled in shadow, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking. Then she hiked up her nightgown and robe, put a knee on either side of his legs, and climbed up onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and just looked at him.

"Where did you go?" he asked, still unsure of what was going on.

"There is a storage room just down the hall. I went to see if it held any cots." It was too much, and he turned away from her, tried to hide his face against the chair. He was afraid he was going to cry right in front of her, because he didn't deserve her, he didn't deserve even a single minute with her. Delenn kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips, his forehead. Then she just held him, while he clutched at her.

"I would sleep hanging upside down from the ceiling by my ankles for you," he finally said, face buried against her neck. She stroked the back of his head, his shoulder blade. "I would sleep on a bed of nails, in a hole in the ground. On the floor of the pak'ma'ra head. Naked in a pile of broken glass."

"Shhh." She scraped her nails along his scalp, kissed his temple. "I know." She stood, put out a hand and helped him up, then untied his robe, slid it off his shoulders. Looked his body up and down, one hand running down his flank. "You're beautiful," she said. Delenn turned, pulled aside the sheets, and he climbed on. The angle wasn't as steep as it had seemed before. There was a moment when it felt like he was going to slide down, but he braced his feet against the bottom, knees slightly raised, and vowed he would not fall off.

"Lips," Sheridan said, and turned to look at Delenn. She was halfway to sitting down, her hands hovering above the armrests, and she paused.

"What?"

"Human males also find lips attractive. You have lovely lips." She smiled at that, stood back up. Her head cocked a little to the side.

"And the waist. Especially where it curves into the hips." She joined him on the bed, a matter of leaning over and propping herself up on one elbow. He rolled over himself, rested his hand on her waist to demonstrate. Lying on her side was doing wonderful things to her cleavage. She let him look, that little smile on her face he loved. "And knees."

"Knees are not attractive," she laughed.

"They most certainly are. Especially if they're your knees. And your feet, and toes, and ankles. Your elbows. The tip of your nose. The top of your nose." She was giggling now, an intoxicating sound. He felt like he was getting drunk off her, off the heady feeling of relief. "Your ears."

"Ears," she scoffed. He ran his finger along the curves of her ear, cupped her cheek in his hand.

"Your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes. Your neck, your throat." She was leaning in for a kiss. Closer, closer... "Your knuckles." She drew back then, laughing, and put her fingers over his mouth.

"Stop being silly and go to sleep." Then he got his kiss, and she settled back down in her chair, hugged her knees to her chest.

Sheridan closed his eyes, let himself sink into the embrace of the universe, and hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was cherished.


	2. Renaissance

_Author's Note: I guess this is a series now. I'd put all the previous stories together in one big story with chapters, but I'm not sure how to do that without losing the reviews; which isn't that big a deal, if I just have to re-upload everything. If anyone who, like, understands how FFN works better than I do (read: at all) can give me a hand, it would be much appreciated._

Renaissance

Sheridan was piloting a Starfury, being chased by some mysterious, monstrous ship ten times the size of his own. He was only meters from the surface of Babylon 5, sliding past the solar arrays, trying to dodge and weave and draw the thing following him into the station's firing solution. The station was thousands of klicks away, and he just tried to run. Every time he thought he'd pulled far enough ahead, the enemy ship gained on him. The controls of the Starfury were slow to respond, and he kept overcompensating, careening wildly first one way, then the other. He found himself in a dive straight for Epsilon Three; no matter what he hit on the console, nothing happened. The planet swallowed up the stars, and he could see the atmosphere grow from a hazy shimmer into a blinding red inferno enveloping him. He tried to pull the eject, but he couldn't reach it. The g-forces grew and grew, and he was getting heavier and heavier...

Sheridan woke up with a start, sliding down the surface of Delenn's bed, and he nearly panicked. He managed to grab the edge of the infernal thing and stop himself. Pushed with his feet, got himself back upright. His heart was still hammering; he hated that particular anxiety dream. It had only recently begun to take place around Babylon 5; just a few weeks ago he was still flying around the _Agamemnon_, and it wasn't long before that he had still been chased by a Minbari fighter.

He turned his head and looked over at his Minbari. Delenn was curled up in her chair, sound asleep. Sheridan watched her breathe, watched her eyes move back and forth underneath her eyelids. She was having a dream of her own. He wondered what she was dreaming about. He wondered how long she'd stayed awake, watching him.

Sheridan stood, tentatively stretched out his limbs. Nothing felt stiff or sore, which surprised him; maybe her bed wasn't as awful as he'd thought. The light had just begun to brighten; he probably had an hour before he'd have to leave. He crouched by her chair, watched her face for a few minutes. He was about to declare the whole watching thing a Minbari tradition that just didn't make sense to humans when she shifted a little, her brow slightly furrowed. She breathed out his name. She was dreaming about him.

Then she shifted again. Hummed a little sound, her breathing changing. Oh. _Oh._ It was that kind of dream. Sheridan was torn. Part of him wanted to camp out right in front of her and watch. Part of him wanted to figure out if he could somehow participate. But most of him wanted to spare her any embarrassment. He needed a shower anyway, so he pulled himself away and went to the head, quietly closing the door behind him.

He turned the water on, hoped that Minbari didn't take cold showers. No, nice and warm. He stepped in, and, as always, took those first ten seconds to turn his face up into the spray and breathe out in one long exhale. Sheridan examined the pretty bottles on the shelf under the shower head. This gooey pink one was probably shampoo; he gave it a sniff. Flowers. Great. He might as well hang a sign on his back. He used as little as he could, lathered his hair up in the rough, quick strokes he'd perfected at the Academy, when they'd often got only two minutes in the shower.

The door to the head clicked open. He hoped she didn't mind that he'd borrowed her shower. He didn't think she would, but so much of this was still so new, and he didn't want to make blind assumptions.

"Hey, I'll be done in a sec," he called out, aware that she could probably make out his body through the opaque glass of the shower door. She'd given him the once-over last night, but that had been after some fairly intense emotional intimacy, which was different than a naked man hanging out in your brightly lit bathroom just after you woke up.

"May I join you?" She probably meant in the head in general. Brush her teeth or something.

"Sure." He started rinsing the suds out of his hair when he heard the shower door open and close. Sheridan froze, then slowly turned. She was standing naked just behind him, smiling a little, looking completely relaxed. "Hi..." he said, pretty sure his brain had fallen out of his ears.

Delenn didn't say anything, just brushed past him to stand under the shower head. His nervous system short-circuited. He just stood dumbly on the other side of the shower and watched as she closed her eyes, tipped her head back into the spray. There wasn't a thing he could do. He had to watch the water run down her body, had to memorize every line and curve. Last night he'd told her that her breasts were perfect; he'd had no idea.

She opened her eyes, found the shampoo and handed it to him. "Will you wash my hair?" she asked, tone completely normal, as though they'd done this hundreds of times. Maybe he was still dreaming. He tried to say _of course_, but it came out as a choked gurgle. He poured shampoo in his hand, squeezing out probably three times as much as he needed. She had already turned around, facing away from him.

Sheridan started on the top half of her head. For some reason, he'd thought she could pull her hair up and over the bone crest, but it actually grew out from the scalp and then down into the bone. He could only move the hair the tiniest bit, so he carefully used the tips of his fingers to lather the shampoo up.

"For Minbari," she said, "bathing is an important ritual. We believe it to be symbolic of rebirth. Normally we would not bathe together until after we had completed the watching ritual and a few others, but I wanted to share this with you. I think we have both been reborn the last few days, together."

He washed the rest of her hair, a lot simpler. "So this is another of the rituals we go through as we explore our relationship?"

"Everything can be a ritual if you approach it in the proper mindset. But no, this is not a specific ritual. However, since we have already shared more physical intimacy than we ought to have at this stage in our relationship, I felt that the benefits of bathing together were more important than strict adherence to tradition."

He rinsed her hair, then Delenn retrieved another bottle. Sheridan held out his hand, but she poured the soap into her own, started washing his chest. He leaned down to kiss her, and she pulled back.

"We're bathing," she said, as though that were all the explanation he needed.

"I can't kiss you?" She shook her head, hands still on his chest. "Ever?"

"This is our first time bathing together." She sounded a trifle upset, like a schoolteacher who had just figured out her student hadn't been listening.

"Of course." She gave him a look that told him she would let him go, this time. She ran her soapy hands over his shoulders, down his arms, then underneath them, scratching her nails through the hair there. Normally he was a little ticklish, but laughing while she had her wet, soapy hands on him was the last thing on his mind. Then her hands traveled down his ribcage, around to his stomach, one finger sliding over his navel, her thumbs just above his pubic hair.

_Rebirth. Important. Only bathing. Be in control. Think about Londo or something._ Then Delenn stepped back, handed him the soap. "Now you finish." That didn't seem fair. Sheridan washed the rest of his body, quickly. She talked a good talk, but he could see her eyes taking particular interest as he soaped up his groin, and he might have lingered there a little bit longer than he needed. Then she stood aside so he could rinse, and kept her back turned to him.

"Now you wash me."

"Your back?"

"John..." He grinned at the back of her head, loving that schoolteacher voice again, enjoying playing with her just a little bit. He washed her back, and as he ran his hands over the delicate curves of her shoulder blades, the prurient interest that had floated just under the surface of this entire exercise melted away. Maybe he never felt reborn after taking a shower, but there were plenty of times that he came out and felt like a human being again. Felt energized, ready to start his day. He had never thought about sharing a shower as a way to share that experience, but he liked it.

When he knelt to wash her legs she didn't protest. Neither did she protest when he turned her around, washed the rest of her. He rinsed her off, then they just stood under the spray for awhile, arms loosely around each other. They had been reborn together. He liked the sound of that.

They toweled each other off, and he combed out her hair. Leaned against the door and watched as she dried it, arranged it. "You're pretty good at that."

"I had a good teacher."

"Who?" he asked, at a loss. He had an image of Lennier helping her do her hair and had to tamp down a most undignified snort.

"Ivanova," she said, finishing up.

"No shit." Sheridan felt like the Grinch just then, thinking of Susan showing Delenn how to brush and dry and style her hair. Not that Ivanova didn't have lovely hair herself (he was a man, not a robot), but he'd never seen her as the nurturing sort. But his heart hadn't grown too many sizes to not make him realize he'd also picked up some good ammo, should he require it.

Delenn headed back into her bedroom, hanging up her towel as she did so, and yes, the mere existence of something as lovely as her ass was reason enough to find them attractive. Sheridan pulled his uniform out of the thermal unit, gave it a sniff as always - yep, it was clean. He didn't trust the damn things. His mom still washed clothes with soap and water, hung them out to dry if it wasn't too cold, and nothing cleaned in a thermal unit ever felt as clean, even though he knew intellectually the clothes that came out were ten times more clean than even the best detergent could manage. He joined Delenn, hoping they'd dress each other, but she was already pulling on her outer robe, snapping it in front.

"I've got to get going soon," Sheridan said, tugging on his boxers. She was making the bed, and he wondered if all women knew how to tuck the sheets in so they actually laid flat, if it was genetic or something.

"It's only oh-six-thirty." He'd thought that her lights were synched with standard morning, but she must have set them earlier than that.

"Oh. Then I've got some time." He was still bare-chested, and as she was finishing the bed he came up behind her. Put his arms on either side of her body like he was going to do a push-up against the bed, and waited for her to turn around. He lowered himself onto his elbows, smiled at her response.

"John. I do not want to change into another set of robes after you wrinkle these."

"I'll be very careful." And he was, gently lowering himself the rest of the way. He felt her spread her legs just a bit in an attempt to accommodate him, and she put one of her hands at the small of his back, fingers just inside his waistband. Then they were kissing, and Sheridan decided he was going to resign as Commanding Officer of Babylon 5, and sign up as Commanding Officer of Kissing Delenn. He'd have to take a pay-cut, but that was okay.

She arched her back underneath him, pressing herself up, and he felt something hard poke him just over his sternum. He broke off the kiss, rubbed the spot.

"I'm sorry," Delenn said, fingers fighting his aside to administer to the reddened area. "It was my pin."

"It didn't really hurt much, don't worry about it." Sheridan braced himself on one arm, took a good look at her pin. He'd noticed it, since it was the only piece of jewelry she wore, but hadn't thought about it much. Three different crystals, one after another, all of slightly different shades of light purple. "This is pretty."

"The top crystal is from my childhood home. The middle is from the temple I attended while an acolyte. The last is...from my father's grave." He rolled onto his hip beside her, put his hand on her neck, thumb under her earlobe, fingers rubbing the back of her neck.

"Then it's more than just pretty, I guess."

"Yes." She rolled over to mirror him, kissed him. Soft, soft. "No matter where I go in the universe, I carry my home with me."

"It's not so different for soldiers. Most everyone I know has something from home, something small they can take with them from ship to ship."

"And you? What do you carry to remind you of home?"

"It's up in my quarters. I'll show you tonight." She was running her nails through his chest hair, lightly, and he figured it was an entirely new experience for her. Sheridan wasn't used to this much physical contact with someone else; it had been a long time. He felt like a dry riverbed underneath a sudden downpour.

"Will you be back in your quarters for dinner?"

"Yes," he said, trailing his hand down her arm. "Barring an emergency, I will be back in my quarters by twenty-two thirty, and I expect to see you there."

He'd only been kissing her ten minutes or so after that when his link beeped; he supposed making dinner plans in advance was tantamount to shaking his fist at fate when it came to this station. "Captain, get up here ASAP. General Franklin has just shown up with six ships of Ground Pounders. Don't know why." Ivanova sounded even more harried than usual, which wasn't surprising. Sheridan didn't even bother answering, just flung himself off the bed and looked for the rest of his uniform.

"Shit. Shit!" Where were his shoes? He hadn't walked over here barefoot. It figured that EarthForce would send that large a party of troops and not even give him a warning. He wouldn't be surprised to find out this was some kind of bullshit test or something. He pulled his shoes on, zipped up his jacket, and was almost to the door when he remembered Delenn. Sheridan turned around, and she was coming his way, his rank and insignia in her hands.

"I'm sorry," he said, jabbing his neck a little trying to pin his rank on as quickly as possible.

"Don't apologize, just go." He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a good, hard smooch, then turned and left. Jogging up to the tube, he knew there wasn't a chance in hell he'd have dinner with her tonight; maybe, if he was lucky, he'd have the opportunity to at least call her and let her know. He thought how nice it would be to come back at the end of the day and just have her there, know that even if all he did was strip and climb into bed that he'd be climbing in beside her. Maybe soon.

xxx

He'd managed to greet the General not too long after he'd docked, feeling like a goddamn cadet, standing there at attention for a good ten seconds before the great man deigned to return his salute. Now he was walking with Garibaldi and Ivanova to the briefing room, to learn why the hell twenty-five thousand Ground Pounders were being unloaded onto his station.

"You smell like flowers," Ivanova said darkly, and Garibaldi gave him a big thumbs up.

"Now is not the time," Sheridan replied, putting on his very best CO voice, complete with frowny eyebrows and turned down mouth.

"I bought that shampoo," Ivanova hissed.

"Well, thank you, Commander. My hair is so soft, and I feel very pretty," he said, and they turned into the briefing room.

"I'm very glad you feel pretty, Captain. Now, if we can get started." General Franklin, who had him beat in the frowny eyebrows department, no question about it. Sheridan carefully marked which of his own men and women smirked at the General's remark - they'd get theirs later, that was for sure. This was all somehow Ivanova's fault. But her eyes quit smiling and he quit worrying about revenge within the first thirty seconds of the briefing. Sheridan felt himself fall back into the familiar rhythms of military strategy, the planning of an op, the deference for the chain of command warring with the need to highlight problems with the plan.

By the end of the briefing he'd forgotten about dinner.

xxx

Sheridan was walking back up to the briefing room, which for the time being was the General's personal base of operations. He'd been checking on the billets for the GroPos - by the time they got all of them settled, it would be time for them to ship out. Too many people on the station; the air recycling systems were chugging along as well as they could, but the air smelled more stale and redolent than usual. Garibaldi was up ahead, and as soon as the Chief saw him he came running Sheridan's way, a peculiar look on his face.

"Something up?"

"Look, everything's okay. It's okay."

"Okay. Glad to hear it."

"There was...an incident. She's okay, John, everything's okay." Sheridan didn't hear the half-dozen 'okays,' he only heard what was in between - there had been an incident, and she had been involved. Delenn.

"What happened?"

"Some of the GroPos got in her face, talking shit about her, about the way she looks. I think one of them grabbed her arm. That's it, though. Okay? She's okay. I just thought you should know."

"Who." Sheridan felt something dark settle around his heart. "Who grabbed her? Who said things to her?"

There was a long pause. "By the time I got there, one of the others had broken it up. I don't know who. Maybe it would be best if she stayed in her quarters till they ship out?" But Sheridan had already left, heading to Green Sector.

xxx

Sheridan rang at her door, wanting to hold her, wanting to find someone to punch as hard as he could, wanting a hundred different things and feeling utterly powerless. How could anyone look at her and not see what he saw? How could anyone stand in her presence and want to harm her?

The door opened, and he went in, hoping that she would be making tea, or reading papers, or sitting in front of her little computer - hoping that she really was okay, that she had shrugged the whole thing off.

Lennier was kneeling on the floor, cleaning up broken glass.

Sheridan felt the room tilt just a little bit, felt like something very bad was about to happen. "Delenn, is she..."

Lennier paused, looking up at him, utterly inscrutable. "The Ambassador is not feeling well. I tried to convince her that she should see Dr. Franklin, but she refused; perhaps you will have more luck."

"Is she...?" He gestured toward her bedroom. Lennier returned to his chore, and Sheridan got the impression he was about to be dismissed.

"The Ambassador contacted Commander Ivanova and requested that she be let in to your quarters. I asked her to wait until I could arrange an escort for her, but again, she refused." Sheridan knew that he would get no more information. He also knew, with a single, unheralded burst of understanding, that Lennier loved her, maybe as much as Sheridan himself did. And he knew that the attaché blamed him for what had happened to Delenn. He couldn't begrudge him that last one; he blamed himself, too.

There was nothing else to say. He left Lennier to his broken glass, and left.

xxx

The walk back to his quarters took an eternity. Everywhere, the GroPos, hordes of them, clogging the corridors, lounging in doorways. Every single face the one that had harassed Delenn, that had grabbed her. As he neared the home stretch, Sheridan told himself that there was no reason to still feel so anxious - the broken glass hadn't meant anything. It was just a coincidence. She had decided to wait for him in his quarters. That's what he'd wanted, right? They were just on the same page, that's all.

And yet, as he reached his door, he felt a sharp stab of worry. He ran his card and the door opened. His quarters were dark, utterly dark. He had a light in the kitchenette set to turn on as soon as the door opened, but it stayed off, meaning it had been shut off manually. A whisper of something terrible shivering up his back, Sheridan stepped forward enough for the door to swing closed behind him, felt around on the wall till he found the switch. The light came on. He only had to glance around to see she wasn't in the front half; the frosted panels leading to his bedroom were closed.

He couldn't bring himself to speak, so he dimmed the light by hand. Walked forward, needing to see her and wanting to run away. He pulled the panels apart, and for a moment couldn't see a thing. Then his eyes adjusted, and he could just make Delenn out, curled on her side in his bed, buried under the covers. She was facing away from him, and he didn't know if she was awake or not. As quietly as he could, he stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt, then gingerly walked around to the other side of the bed.

She was awake. He crouched down till their faces were level, and waited.

"Ivanova let me in."

"I know. Lennier told me." Sheridan didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. She looked remarkably calm, dry-eyed, and if she hadn't been lying awake in the dark, and if he hadn't seen the broken glass, he might have thought nothing had happened at all. "Delenn-"

"I don't want to talk about it." Her voice made it clear that she would brook no argument. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that it had happened on his station and it was his responsibility; he wanted to tell her that she was beautiful; he wanted to tell her that he loved her.

But not tonight.

Delenn pulled the covers aside, moved onto her back. He saw that she'd changed into one of his t-shirts, and he wondered if she found it comforting. He was going to lie down next to her but she reached for him, and he settled himself on top of her. She kissed him greedily, hungrily. Her hands stole under his shirt, slid over his back. Sheridan felt himself respond, knew she could feel his hardness against her, but she only pushed her hips upward, her fingers digging into his flesh. He tore his mouth from hers, sucked hard on the tendon in her neck.

"John," she moaned, and he knew that he was completely and utterly lost. He pulled himself up on his elbows, breathed, got himself under control. "What are you doing?" she asked, hands trying to tug him back down.

"I'm going to make you feel better," he whispered, and he resisted her attempts to return to the hard, fevered kiss from before. This wasn't going to be about him, only her, and it was going to be gentle, perfect. Sheridan felt her finally give in to it, and her hands quit pulling at him, began sliding up and down his sides in slow, languorous strokes. He tugged off her shirt, took a moment to gaze down at her body, painted in chiaroscuro. He kissed his way down, stopping and taking his time any time she made a sound, or moved against him.

After he finished laving attention onto her belly, he stood up, grabbed her behind the knees and tugged her down to the bottom of the bed. Knelt on his knees in front of her. Delenn propped herself up on her elbows, eyes wide. "John?"

"I said I was going to make you feel better." He kissed the top of one knee, then the other. Gentle. Rubbed the tops of her thighs, and felt her relax. Sheridan parted her legs, could feel the muscles there trembling. He pressed kisses along the inside of her thighs, up and up; she was gasping now, choked sounds in her throat, hands clutching the bed sheets. He finally spread her open, made love to her with his mouth. He kept backing off, trying to draw it out; returning to kiss her inner thighs, her lower belly, stopping to blow cool air over her, rocking back on his heels once and just rubbing her thighs again, but it still didn't take long. He watched her orgasm shudder through her, and kissed her back down. Her breathing slowed, and one of her hands came up to stroke the back of his head.

Sheridan stood, lifted her up in his arms; she was boneless, limp. He laid her down carefully, and she rolled over, giving him room enough to climb in behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, spooning her as tightly as he could, and as he kissed her bone crest he heard her sigh, a sigh that had the edge of tears in it. She reached a hand up to cover one of his, and he realized he still had his link on. Sheridan took it off, tossed it on the floor. He didn't care if God Himself called, he wasn't going to leave her tonight.


End file.

Babylon 5, Romance