From Mmturner@aol.com Tue Dec 24 22:48:22 1996
Date: Fri, 25 Oct 1996 00:24:57 -0400
From: Mmturner@aol.com
To: b5-creative@lists.best.com
Subject: [Mmturner@aol.com: story]


Hi

This story takes place immediately after "And the Rock...." and before
"Shadow Dancing".  The usual disclaimers, Babylon 5 belongs to JMS, and I'm
simply borrowing his characters for a bit.  Much thanks to Inga for
beta-reading and invaluable suggestions.  As always I would appreciate
feedback.  My email address is Mmturner@aol.com.


				Acts of Faith
					by
				Mary M. Turner


   Sheridan hurried to catch up with Lennier as he crossed the corridor.
He had been trying to think of some way of asking his question without
revealing how important it was to him.  Already he was regretting his
impulsive purchase.  "Lennier, is Delenn's birthday any time soon?"

   The slight Minbari looked a little startled.  "I am sorry Captain?
Her birthday?"

   "Yes, you know.  The day of the calendar on which she was born."

   "I have no idea.  We - That is a personal subject."

   "Oh.  I - is there a day on which you exchange gifts?  A day of
personal celebration?"

   "Well, we do have feast days."

   "Perfect.  When is hers?"

   "Her next feast day would be the seventh day of Zha'ffet in the
cycle of Kha'tum."

   "Is that soon?"

   "By your calendar?  September 7 in 2264."

   "2264?  That's...  Hell.  Thanks anyway, Lennier.  I'll just have
to think of something else." He wandered off, looking discouraged.
Lennier peered after him, puzzled.  The Captain had been working very hard
on the plans for the War. Perhaps he had been working too hard.

   Sheridan was aware of Lennier's concern, but he didn't want to
explain his actions to anyone else that day.  The shopkeeper and Ivanova
had been bad enough.  Lennier, with his quiet self-assurance, would have
been more than he could take. The small box in his shirt pocket seemed to
pulse with a life of its own.  Delenn wasn't due back on station till the
day after tomorrow.  Perhaps by then he would know what to do.

   "S'matter, Captain?  You look like you're trying to figure out
interstellar navigation problems without a calc."

   "Oh, Garibaldi," Sheridan jumped a little, startled by the other
man's silent approach.  "I'm trying to figure out something.  If you
wanted to know something about someone -- without their knowing it -- and
you've asked everybody who should know -- and they don't -- how would
you do it?"

   "Unn - hunh.  Yeah.  Well, I'd start by accessing the station's
data base of Minbari personnel records, and then if what I wanted wasn't
in there, I'd move on to the secured diplomatic records that are only
available to the command staff of this station, and if that wasn't
enough, I'd ask my Chief of Security to break into the really secret
personal files of the Ambassadorial staff."

   "Thanks Ga -- wait a minute, I didn't say anything about Minbari...
Did I?"

   "Hey, Captain, it's my job to know what you're thinking, even
before you do.  Good luck." Garibaldi sauntered off whistling.

   Sheridan growled something after his departing back, and started to
return to C & C.  Halfway there, he changed his mind.  Ivanova would just
have more to say, and he'd already taken her head off once today.  He
punched transit tube controls for his quarters and decided to try
Garibaldi's suggestions from his personal comp.  It had the same
clearances as the one in his office and was a whole lot less likely to
invoke comments from his Exec.

   In his cabin, he wrenched his jacket open and tossed it onto the couch,
and sat down grimly at his computer. An hour later he was even grimmer, and
not much wiser.  Either he was going to have to take Michael up on his
offer to crack Delenn's personal codes, or he was going to have to come
up with another answer.  In desperation he began to search the station's
historical database, and there the solution was, staring at him.
Satisfied, he pushed back from the comp, and finished undressing.  Now, he
could sleep.

   Hours later, the automatic alarms woke him, and he immediately sat up,
certain that the station was under attack.  Then he realized that it was
simply the start of another day.  In less than twenty-four hours Delenn
would be 'home'.  There were things he needed to do before she arrived.

   			****************

   Delenn strode from the flyer and bowed to Lennier who awaited her.
Privately she searched the docking bay area for another, but she displayed
no outward signs of her disappointment at his absence.  After all the war
was omnipresent now, and Sheridan undoubtedly was immersed in his plans.
Unconsciously she quickened her steps.  Lennier could barely keep up with
her.  Perhaps there was a message in her quarters.  Impatiently she
scrolled through a variety of requests, announcements, and communications.
At last there was one from the Captain.

   "Welcome home, Delenn," he looked very tired on the vidcomm, and she
began to worry anew about him.  "I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you
personally, but I'm hoping that you'll have dinner with me this
evening.  I've made reservations for us at the FreshAir Restaurant at
nineteen hundred hours.  Please don't let me down.  Uhh, Delenn, could
you wear that black dress?  Sheridan out."

   Delenn was startled.  Dinner was fine, but the black dress?  She had
worn it only that one time for their first dinner, and she now realized how
- provocative - it was.  The very idea made her uncomfortable, but John
never seemed to notice her appearance, and he certainly never requested
that she wear specific clothing.  His whole behavior since her return was
unusual, and she was unsure how to respond.

   			****************

   Sheridan's mind was still on tactics and fleet strengths when he
arrived at Delenn's quarters that evening.  He smacked the chime and
waited, not really noticing how long it took her to answer.  Eventually the
door cycled and she stood waiting for him.  The room was lit by candles and
glittered with crystals and she stood against the couch as if unsure of her
visitor.  He stepped inside and paused, registering her presence for the
first time All thoughts of the War dropped away, and he caught his breath.

   "My God, you're lovely," he said, and crossed swiftly to her side
to take her hand in his.

   "I - You are sure you wish me to wear this dress.?" Even now she
would willingly have changed.

   "Delenn, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,
especially in that dress."

   She smiled uncertainly at him, still worried about his behavior.  John
had never been so bold, so strange, before.  He seemed to have thrown off
the worries which had lined his face earlier and was now almost euphoric.
His giddiness alarmed her as much as his earlier weariness had.  Sheridan
gave her no time to think, whisking her out of the door and down to the
restaurant.  Once in the Zocalo, he bypassed the main entrance for one on
the side.

   "This leads directly into the private dining rooms," he said when
she looked at him.  "I've booked a small room just for us for the
evening."

   Once they were seated and he had ordered some sparkling fruit juice to
begin their meal, he leaned forward.  "You don't know what we're
celebrating, do you?"

   "No.  I - I did not even know we were celebrating.  Has some event
occurred which will further our cause?"

   For a moment, his features darkened and he reverted to the concerned war
leader that she was seeing all too often.  "No.  No, Delenn, I wish I
could say that we were celebrating wonderful news for our future, but..."
his voice trailed off, and impulsively she reached across the table to
cover his hand with her own.

   "John.  John?" She raised her voice a little to recall him to the
present.

   "Oh.  Where was I ?  Oh, right.  We're celebrating.  Do you know
what occurred two years ago, today?"

   "Two years ago?  Today?  Where?  On the station or somewhere else in
the Universe?" She smiled at him and tightened her hand a little.

   He turned his over so that their hands lay palm to palm.  "On the
Station.  Two years ago today, I held a meeting of the Council of Worlds,
here on Babylon 5, and met the Minbari Ambassador for the first time.  She
was the loveliest creature I'd ever seen, and she still is."

   A faint flush of color mounted to her cheeks, and she touched her hair
where it lay against her neck.  "Two years?  Has it really been just two
years?  In some ways I feel I have known you all my life, and -- in others
-- as if I barely know you at all."

   "I know. I -- Delenn..." Whatever he was about to say was
interrupted by the delivery of their dinner, and they began to talk of
other things.

   "You ordered flarn?" She was a little amused.

   "Well, I thought that after the disaster of my cooking, if I wanted
you to have a decently cooked meal, I'd have to take you out." He
smiled back.

   "You did very well.  I enjoyed my dinner in your quarters.  Except for
the fighting and your injuries."

   "Well, I'll try not to let that happen this time."

   Silence fell between them for a moment, and again Delenn tugged
nervously at her hair.  "Uhmm.  The station.  What happened..." she
said just as Sheridan asked,

   "Your journey?  Was it tiring?"

   They both stopped, and then Sheridan laughed.  After a moment Delenn
joined in uncertainly, and he reached across the table for her hand again.
"Relax, Delenn.  We don't have to 'make conversation'.  It's
enough for me, just to be able to share a meal with you, look at you, enjoy
the fact that you're here, with me."

   "I lo- like very much to share a meal with you, John.  But I also
would like to know what happened while I was gone." She smiled at him.
"Did Ivanova have any more run-ins with Pak'ma'ra traders?"

   "Oh, wait till I tell you.  Two Drazi were in a transit tube with a
Lumati and his aide when we lost power to that sector.  By the time we got
up again, war had been declared between their homeworlds, and...."

   By the time the meal had wound its way through the several courses he
ordered, Delenn was even more concerned.  Sheridan had hardly touched his
food, but he had had several glasses of wine when the waiter brought the
bottle over with a note that it came compliments of Commander Ivanova.

   "How thoughtful of Susan," Delenn remarked even as she wondered
privately if Ivanova remembered that Minbari do not drink alcohol.

   "Dutch courage," Sheridan replied, but refused to explain what the
phrase meant.

   "John, are you not well?" Delenn could contain herself no longer
when the waiter removed their plates and returned with tea.

   He was startled.  "I'm fine.  What do you mean?"

   "You have barely eaten, and the food was quite well prepared.  Your
mood varies wildly, one moment buoyant, the next grim.  Sometimes your mind
goes far from this table, and then you tease me.  I do not understand.  Are
you displeased with me?  I knew I should not have worn this garment.  It is
not suitable." She tugged up a little at the neckline of the dress.  He
reached across the table to stop her.

   "Don't Delenn.  There's nothing wrong with that dress, nor with
you.  I admit that it is damn -- distracting, but that's what ......."
he broke off, when his comm link buzzed.  "Sheridan here.  This better be
important."

   "I'm really sorry, Captain," Ivanova began, "but I think you'd
better come to C&C right now."

   "Ivanova," he growled, but she replied.

   "It's important, Captain.  Trust me."

   Sheridan looked helplessly at Delenn.  "I have to go.  I'll walk you
back to your quarters and then, if I may, come by later, if it's not too
late..."

   "Go now.  I know how to get home."

   "Oh no, I'm not letting you run around loose on the station in that
dress," he smiled at her and over her protests, did indeed see her back
to the Ambassadorial wing.

   Once in her quarters, Delenn did something she rarely did.  She studied
her image in the mirror for many long moments, wishing she could see
herself from a human perspective, wishing she truly knew the meaning of
John's words, wishing that their evening had not been interrupted,
however important the cause.

   Finally she made a pot of tea and tried to immerse herself in
Lennier's reports of events on the station in her absence.  The room felt
chilly, and she slipped a Minbari robe over her dress, but did not change
out of it yet.  John had seemed to set such importance on her costume for
the evening, and he had implied that he might still try to finish whatever
celebrations he had planned.

   This human custom of celebrating anniversaries was foreign to her, and
his excuse for their dinner seemed very flimsy indeed, but obviously it had
been of great import to him.  She stared at the reports, reading the same
page over and over again while she replayed the evening in her head.
Something was troubling him, but she couldn't discern what the problem
was.

   Finally she sighed and rose.  It was nearly two in the morning, much too
late to expect a visitor.  Just then the chime sounded.  She hurried to the
door and cycled it.  John stood there, looking haggard, and she hastened to
usher him inside.

   "Delenn, I'm sorry.  This is much too late.  I shouldn't be
here."

   "Where else should you be?  I waited for you.  Come.  Would you like
tea?"

   "No." He bit his lip and rubbed his hands over his face.  She guided
him to the couch and he collapsed into its depths.  "The emergency?"

   "Yes?"

   "It was the remains of a Narn transport attacked by the Shadows in
hyper.  By coincidence, they had three Drazi teeps on board.  One of them
is now a gibbering mindless wreck, but they managed to drive off the
attackers.  But not before they'd destroyed half the ship.  It was mostly
females and pouchlings.  God, Delenn, what kind of enemy doesn't care
what targets they choose?"

   "John." She sank down beside him, longing to hold him close, to help
him forget, just for a little while, the horrors still ahead of them.  She
put her hand on his cheek.  He caught it and brought it to his mouth where
he kissed her palm.

   "If I didn't have you...but it's not fair, you've so much...so
many worries of your own."

   "John, please.  You must know that I am always here for you, at any
hour, no matter...." He slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her
closer in his embrace.

   "Delenn," he murmured just before lowering his mouth to hers.
Finally he let her go, both of them breathing a little raggedly.
Determinedly, he sat back against the couch and took his arm from her.
"I wanted to give this to you.  Before things get bad.  I wanted you to
know.  Back home, before the last war...before every war, soldiers ... I
wanted you to be certain... I wanted to be certain..."

   She touched his mouth, wishing she were bold enough to interrupt him
with a kiss.  "John, John I do not know what you are talking about,"
she said with a little laugh.

   "Oh. Oh, right." He groped in his shirt pocket and pulled out the
small flat box.  "I planned this evening so I'd have an excuse ... I
want to give you something, so you know how I feel.  So you know you're
-- mine.  I - I love you, Delenn, and I want you to know that before things
get any worse.  I - I guess I'm plighting my troth."

   "Plight...?"

   "You'll have to look it up later.  Right now I want you to open
this." Having finally nerved himself to say the words, he was now
absurdly anxious for her to see his gift, to reply.

   She fumbled with the box, made clumsy by his words, wanting just to
throw herself in his arms and wish the world away.  Finally it fell open
and she gasped.  "John.  It cannot be.  A song crystal?" Reverently she
touched the small object in the box.  It was a glowing stone, carved in a
ca'lach, a Minbari rose, on one side, flat on the other, shading from
dark ruby to vivid amber, and attached to a fine gold chain.

   "However did you find this?  I have only seen them in museums.  They
are very, very rare; very, very valuable."

   "Put it on." Gently he helped her lift it from the box and slip the
chain around her neck.  His fingers, fumbling with the clasp, were warm
against her skin.  When the crystal touched the living flesh of her throat,
it seemed to glow more brightly and then it began to give off a soft
melodious chime, the notes rising and then falling off into a very faint
hum, barely distinguishable from the sound of her heart.

   "It's genuine after all," he sighed, "that's why I wanted you
to wear that dress, so it would touch your bare skin." She looked at him.

   "John, I have never received such a gift.  How did you know I have
longed all my life for a crystal such as this?"

   "I was Down Below and this merchant had a lot of crap on his stall,
and -- that.  It - called to me.  I wanted something for you, you see.  A
ring somehow didn't seem right, and I didn't know what else to get you.
When I saw that - I had to have it.  Ivanova told me that it was sure to be
a fake.  We even had words.  The old man knew what he had too.  It wasn't
- I didn't cheat him, if you're worried about that."

   "But you took such a chance.  Even if it were genuine, it might not
have sung for me.  They do not for everyone."

   "I know.  He explained.  They sing only for pure souls.  For those
with honor and dignity and nobility.  I told him that you are all those
things and more, and he told me that even then, it might not sing.  That
there has to be some connection between the giver and the recipient.
Ivanova told me he was just trying to create excuses ahead of time because
it was a fake.  But when I touched it, it seemed to me that I could hear
some echo, some sound, and I was -- I am asking you to take such a chance
on me that it seemed appropriate to take a chance on your betrothal
gift."

   "A betrothal gift?  Is that what you are asking me, John?
Involuntarily her fingers went to the pendant.  His closed round hers and a
lovely chime sounded.

   "Yes, Delenn, that is what I am asking.  It's a bad bargain.  I
think the years ahead are going to be long and hard ones for both of us,
but I couldn't.....  I belong with you, just as you belong with me, and I
- I just wanted to make sure you knew." This time she did reach up to
kiss him.  This time she let him know how much she loved him, how much she
had feared the future without him beside her.  This time she could say what
had been in her heart for many months.

   "Forever.  For always." And the crystal at her throat sounded a pure
note as their lips met.

   				######### Mmturner@aol.com
--
1/2 Soviet press agency  = 1 demitasse