Chapter Text
Delenn sank into her office chair. The long-distance projection screen hovered above her desk between a photo of her son David in ranger robes on the left and her husband John Sheridan in his Earth Force uniform on the right. She scooted it fractionally closer as the cleansing ceremony continued on the Honored Ground station.
One month he’d been gone. Only one month. It felt both like an age and a day. She’d barely eaten or slept, filling her time with work until she passed out at her desk or force herself to bed to avoid seeing the sunrise. Their sunrise – she and John. Someday it would be a source of great comfort, but in the state of heart she resided then, it hurt too much to bear. Out her chamber window, night was already fading on Minbar. A ribbon of pink stained the skyline. Delenn moved her chair to avoid watching. This would not be the morning that changed.
The ritual continued on the Honored Ground station, far away from the home he did not live in and the bed he was not sleeping in. Delenn focused on “there.” It was an obscure ritual, not quite suited for the occasion they were using it for certainly… although if considered it in sort of a squinty, tilty kind of way it could apply. Very much human logic. She spared a tight-lipped smile to the portrait of her husband.
Avaier assisted in the ritual. He was an elderly man, but spoke with a vigor Delenn thought vaguely familiar. He was being generous to allow the humans to perform anything of this sort. It was a clever means of ironing the wrinkles caused by the infraction they’d reported, and greatly preferable to war. Knowing who Valen truly was, she agreed with the inclusion of human participants and with the application of his lessons. Impressive that someone not familiar with Valen’s origins would interpret it as such…. was it Avaier who gleaned the truth after centuries of misinterpretation? It was a gracious revelation if it was. Perhaps the spirits of their ancestors were taking notice of the station. The Tha’domo were radical, but she had no idea they’d devolved to such a level.
The star of the moment was Captain Thompson Gens, commanding officer of the EAS Madisonville which floated crippled in the surrounding space. Her conducting was an interesting choice. It implied it was her offering… which made sense with the strains in both logic and diplomacy. The captain must have been deeply studied in the Minbari Religious Caste to even know the ritual existed, let alone apply it so well. Delenn moved a digital crew dossier across the suspended screen with the tip of a finger. Gens had a good record, but no history in Minbari studies, nor a firm grasp of Andrenato if Delenn was being honest. She double-tapped the window to shift through the crew records. Who present would have such knowledge of the Religious Caste without the strict protocol the monks would apply to it?
The manifest was out of date. She knew there had been deaths, but they were not yet recorded in the system. She found a note about freelance translators. Perhaps they were the missing piece.
Interstellar Consultants. Their records were scattered. Apparently there was an office, although some clerical error redirected her trace to an airport phone kiosk. Earther technology was chronically unrefined. Without an online record she resorted on incidentals – records, reviews, news listings. They had a good reputation with the Abbai. There was record of them trying to list their services in Minbari circles but were refused. No history there. Perhaps the mystery deserved further research.
“I’m impressed,” the captain of the Earth Force ship agreed over the joint com. He was visibly moved on his video feed. “I came prepared to fight but found a portrait of cooperation. I understand why you were so aloof in your report.”
“With the conclusion of this ritual, the Tha’Domo monks officially release our hold on this sector of space,” Avaier said. “We will maintain our presence in honor of Valen’s wishes, and remember those who fought and died, without adding to their bloodshed.”
“A great sacrifice for your order,” Delenn said. “But done in the name of peace, and therefore with the blessing of the Religious Caste and the Interstellar Alliance. You both performed very well, thank you for your devotion and your attention to the history you have protected here.”
“Thank you Madame President,” Gens bowed like a hinge at the waist.
Avaier triangled his hands and canted his head as well. “Your blessings are received with honor and gratitude.”
“Perhaps now that everyone’s a bit calmer we can discuss what exactly happened here?” The Earth Force ship captain asked.
“Yes, I believe we can,” she said. “I will send a diplomatic liason from my ship to handle negotiations. Hopefully we can come to some agreement concerning the use of this sector of space and how our species can progress together into the future.”
“Agreed,” Avaier said.
“Agreed,” Gens beamed.
She was a radiant little bit of sunshine. She reminded Delenn of her own son back when he was taking lessons. Delenn regarded her husband’s photo again with a pang of dull sorrow and reached for the screen. “Thank you all for your cooperation.” She flipped to her on-board crew. ”I want a full report on the proceedings, and anything you can find out about the events there. Names and visual reference if available. Always strive for peace, but do not leave mysteries unsolved.”
The Minbari ranger on the other end bowed to her. ”As you wish.”
She closed communication and found herself alone in a dark room lit only by the burgeoning daylight.
One month. That was all it had been. She felt so alone.
Perhaps she aught to go to bed.
Delenn moved away from the dawn, but tarried at the threshold. Something compelled her. Something unmistakable beckoned her to stay. In the short time since John’s death she’d avoided the changing light, afraid it would stab her through the chest and drain all the warm feelings she shared with her love. Yet now that she faced it, it was as if she had never been so close to the light. Not in time, but in space. The sense of proximity was real as if he were standing beside her, asking her to join him and watch their sunrise together.
In that moment, she was more afraid of missing the dawn than she was of seeing it.
Delenn move up the short hallway and out to the balcony where her bench waited. It was almost like it was watching her, wondering where she had been. Delenn’s heart swelled as she breathed deep and sat down.
Daylight broke. It lanced through her, as she feared, but did not carry pain. It entered like a warm tea, and dissolved to warm her core. She reached up toward it, savoring its warmth, wishing it would reach back but knowing it didn’t have to. It was not the warmth the brought this cleansing. A spirit of reassurance was present, as surely as she felt the heat of the star and the seat of the bench. It was sitting right beside her. Just as it had for days before, and for years before that. Her star. Her John.
Sheridan knew he couldn’t speak to her. As a spirit he had no voice to hear or hand to touch. She woudln’t know he was there, according to Lorien. The oldest being waited inside, ready to whisk him back beyond the Rim in a moment. He only had ten minutes, and John understood why. It would be so easy to stay there forever, no wonder spirits got lost.
Delenn leaned back into the bench. Sheridan felt her come near, like electricity. Their souls resonated one to another. He noted a faint smile and relaxed as well.
She felt him. He knew it. Sunrise always brought them together. As long as they both watched the dawn, they would never be far.
“John,” Lorien whispered. His voice echoed in the mists.
“Just a moment longer,” Sheridan pleaded, but long translucent fingers folded over his shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize the moment. “Okay.”
Lorien tightened his grip. Their spiritual forms sifted and broke apart like fine sand, but a feeling remained. The sense of companionship Delenn felt could not have been a coincidence. She held on to it, savored it, and stared at the dawn.
As long as they had the sunrise, they would not be far apart.