From julifolo@ux1.cso.uiuc.edu Tue Dec 24 22:12:06 1996 Date: Sun, 20 Oct 1996 02:08:42 -0500 (CDT) From: watkins julia k To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "Giddy" (complete) This second story is a team project between Felicia and me. After reading "Post Inquisitor" or "Gotcha" Felica sent me the first part of this story and said "so how does it end"? I'm glad she did so because I had ran up against a wall about what John would do and hadn't figured how to proceed. Because this is a team-up it looks a bit weird. Felicia & I have a different paragraphing style. I tried to write using her format, and it didn't seem to work for me, and her dialog seems to work better in her format so this story uses both styles. The first paragraph and a half is my writing, then it switches to Felicia. Felicia's last line is Sheridan's sentance that ends "...someone again." Then the last eleven paragraphs before the first "+++" is me, as well as the rest of the story. I would like to thank Felicia, Justin, Alison and Deborah for their comments and encouragement. Julie hopeless romantic julifolo@ux1.cso.uiuc.edu ========================= standard disclaimers ========================= "Giddy" / by Julie Watkins and Felicia Le Cou Time: during the "epilog" section of "Fall of Night" Sheridan entered his quarters bone tired. Too many problems, too many crises were calling for his attention. The station was on edge, no one knowing when the Centauri would stop. No one knowing what "normal" was going to shake out to be, no one knowing when or whether life or livelihood would be on the line. And so under the cover of "trying to forget" he and the other Hague Conspirators had had dinner at Earhearts, wondering how Clark would use the instability to further consolidate his power. It looked like an oportunity for purge and disaster. Sheridan wished everything could just stop for two days straight so he could get his feet back on solid ground. It hadn't been today, and it wouldn't be tomorrow. Definitely not tomorrow. Tomorrow was a Council meeting, he reminded himself with a shudder. Bed would have to wait until he reviewed the itinerary, and tried to come up with some kind of game plan. Not that it mattered much. The Advisory Council was no more than a joke now. With G'Kar no longer involved, and whether or not Kosh even attended, the events were predictable. The Minbari and Earth governments would vote against the Centauri in whatever they were trying to get. The Vorlons would abstain. Mollari, by now so disgusted at this point, didn't even suggest involving the League--why solicit one more vote against him? And if tomorrow went anything like the last few days, he and Delenn would only say what was absolutely necessary to each other, perhaps glancing at each other when each thought the other wasn't looking, trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Sheridan didn't understand the test, and maybe he didn't want to. He didn't understand her right at this moment. He thought he did, or maybe he thought he could. She seemed at times like she understood him, but-- Dammit! Why this? Why now? Why couldn't he get her out of his head? And why, why when he thought he understood himself and his feelings for her, Anna had to influence every thought he had about Delenn? Anna was dead. He hoped she was dead. Because Delenn was right, the alternative to her death was too horrible to imagine. The door chimed. Don't want to deal with this now. More people, more problems, more-- "Come in," he called. The door slid open, and she stepped in. "Captain, I'm sorry to bother you at this hour," Delenn spoke softly, looked beautiful in the deep blues of her gown. She carried a brief. "Uh, no, not at all," He motioned her into a chair, but Delenn shook her head. "This won't take long," Delenn set the folder down on the table top. "I just wanted to make sure you got this before the Council meeting tomorrow." He reached out to pick it up; his hand covered hers before she could withdraw it. Her eyes flew from the folder up to his. Startled, confused, uncertain. He withdrew his hand as if shocked. She stepped away towards the door, "Well, good evening. . . ." "No, wait," Sheridan grasped her arm. He couldn't let her go. I can't let her go, not yet. Not until I know, if, or what-- "John," she spoke cautiously, "I don't--" "What is she to you, he asked. That question has played over and over in my head--" Delenn tried to pull away. "--no, wait." He held her by the arms with both hands. Somehow they were facing each other, he didn't remember how. She wouldn't look at him. Tense, frozen, motionless. "What is she to you? I didn't answer his question, but now I need to." She turned her head upwards; He cupped her face between both hands. Her pulse was racing. "What is she to you, *what* is she? She is everything to me. Before she came there was only pain and darkness. A nightmare of what *was* after Anna disappeared. I tried to pretend that nothing had happened to her, you know. I tried to stay dead inside. I came here because I was told to and this was a job, and only a job, and I could do my job as long as I didn't have to feel to much or remember. . . ." "Her?" Delenn asked. "No, to remember what it feels to love someone again." He released her shoulders and moved his hands so that they lightly cupped either side of her chin. Her eyes were still down but she had not drawn away as she could have when he let go of her arms, and that enboldened him. He stepped as close as he could to her and lightly kissed her on the lips; the taste was strange and undefinable. She did not move. He kissed her again, harder. She breathed in deeply, her body still but it seemed to relax. He moved his hands back down to her shoulders, caught between wanting to embrace her again and not wanting to unlock his eyes from her face. "I love you," he said, voice sure. "John--" She protested. "I've been in love before," he answered. "I know what it feels like." She shivered. "What do you feel?" he asked. He moved his hands across her back to pull her closer. "I have feelings," she said hesitantly. Her hands moved to caress his neck. "I love many people, many things, ideals. You talk of ... another kind of love?" He nodded, and his eyes answered: touch and need. Closeness. He spread the fingers of one hand wide across her back, and the other hand moved upwards to her hair. His thumb stroked at the back of her ear. Her voice caught twice as she breathed out, hands clenching. "I do not understand. My body feels ... different." There was a huskiness to her voice. The words were said as if moaning. "It seems a stranger to me." He kissed her again, and her mouth answered. +++ It was sometime later and they were a warm cuddled lump on one end of the couch taking a lazy path back to considered thought after losing themselves to sensation for a while, a couple of school kid adolescents basting in the glow of just-discovered-sex. Sheridan grinned, lazily stroking Delenn's arm. Well, he thought, an hour of heavy petting was just an hour of heavy petting, but it sure as hell felt good. Anna would have laughed. Anna. The thought called up a dull memory of sadness. Of couse. I can't think of Delenn and not think of Anna on the next moment. But this really is too funny. This isn't the situation I had with you, he silently explained to the image of his wife in his memory, smiling sadly at the lack of guilt. No cause for jealousy, love, he told her. You're dead. No wife no more, you're reduced to the role of advisor. Do you think she's the one, love? Could I have with her what I had with you? How do I do it right? Because it had happened again, he realized: the sudden recognition of a slow-growing love. Anna and he had had other lovers before and after they met. They were both resolutely married to their ambitions so anything else was just for fun and didn't mean anything. But then the War fell on top of them without a warning. And then he was hanging, lost, alone in the night. His fighter had been disabled. That was the inglorious end to the first action he saw in the Earth-Minbari war, and he thought it was going to be his last. It was to Anna his thoughts kept coming back to, both before and after the rescue. "I'm not going to die screaming," he had told himself, even though without the recorder running there was no one to know. "Anna, could you help me with this?" He still had at least a day's worth of breathing to do, and it wasn't going to be wasted in fear. He allowed himself one regret as he was preparing himself to die: Anna. He gave himself one hope, "If I live I'm going to marry her," because ambition wasn't important any more. He did live, and at the end of the War they married. And this war had begun with Anna's death. Sheridan pulled himself back to the present. Shadows. It was late, too late. He had a hell of a day tomorrow, and he needed his rest. Delenn warm in his arms seduced him away from thoughts of duty. Her gentle touch was much more healing than the troubled dreams he had been expecting for the night. It was almost as if he was already in a dream: Quiet, loving. Healing. The promise of passion sat on the horizon: it had not yet come, but he knew it would. They had approached the precipice close enough to see that long fall on the other side. It was fine and natural that they had looked and paused and said, "Well, not today." There was going to be a tomorrow ... or next week. Whatever. There were complications he didn't want to think about, that they were going to have to think about, and better to take just this amount. Just enough to know it was right. Just enough to know they had to take what they could now, because the future was approaching, and they would need each other's strength to face the darkness. There was no greater strength than love. We do love each other, Sheridan told himself, warmed by his belief. It is forbidden love. She represents "Minbar" and I represent "Earth". This is as illegal as anything else I'm doing, he laughed. What is one more "crime"? This isn't wrong. It feels nothing but right, and it's too long in coming. She was sitting on his lap, head on his shoulder. He looked down and could see her eyes were open. He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with his thumb. "Delenn?" She took a long time to answer. "...Interesting. I think I like this feeling." Her fingers pulled on his eyebrows. She had a fascination with his eyebrows, just as he had with her headbone. "'Fun.'" She tested the sound of the words. "'Love.'" "I love you." "I love you," she repeated, using his same intonation. Giddy. I'm holding a giddy Minbari. Once again the conquering hero. Why hasn't the universe fallen apart? His throat tightened and it was difficult for him to speak. "I can't tell if you mean that." "John," she pouted. "You move too quickly." She seemed upset that he was ruining the mood. She pinched the end of his nose and then went back to playing with his hair. "Quickly!" he muttered, moving his hand across her chest. When you love, Dad had told him, love without reservation. When you fight, fight without fear. "We had one date, months ago. I'd say we're not moving fast enough." "John," there was an edge of seriousness--of warning--in her tone. "I do not know what this kind of 'love' feels like. This touch--" she smiled broadly, her voice becoming light again, "--is a new experience for me. I am still exploring." "Three weeks ago we were ready to die for each other," he persisted. "Perhaps our hearts know something our minds have refused to accept." "Perhaps," she smiled. She kissed him again to stop his questioning. +++ The explorations might have cheerfully continued another hour, but the day's strains finally won out over intention. "Oh, damn," he yawned when he should have been moaning in pleasure at the way her hand cupped his chest. "If I fall asleep on this couch my back will murder me tomorrow." He hated how straight he had to stand and sit when he wore his dress uniform. She looked as tired as he did, underneath her happy glow. She snuggled her head next to his. "You are a quite comfortable pillow." "Thanks." He laid his head back, considering. Could he possibly find a comfortable position? After a long attempt he knew it was hopeless. "Ah, ... Delenn, my love," he tightened his embrace. "This isn't going to work. Do you want to--" the moment he started the sentance he knew it was a bad idea. But still the words stumbled out, "--sack out on the bed?" At the moment he was tired enough that it would have been safe, but morning was another matter. She looked at him, eyes serious. "Is that wise?" "Probably not," he confessed. He shifted, moving from his slouch to a more alert posture. "It's probably already 'too late', but still explainable if anyone sees. In the morning someone would notice." He didn't have to say that would be bad. She well understood the awkwardness of their situation. "I should go," she agreed. "I am sorry to have stayed too long." "No," he smiled. "Don't apologize. Never apologize." Then he was stalled, trying to find something poetic to say, but his mind was too happily fogged to be creative. She also seemed uncertain of what to say. Finding no appropriate word she answered with a last gentle caress of his face, tracing his eyebrows. Then she swung her feet off the cushions and slid off his lap to stand, fussing with her gown to put it back in order. He stood also and, from behind, used his fingers to comb and order her mussed hair. She was startled at the first touch but let him continue. When he was finished she turned around to return the favor, refastening his shirt where it had come undone. "Thank you," he smiled. "Thank you for staying." He took her hands in his. "Can you come again, sometime, when we can continue?" He looked away, hesitant. "There is much more ... to explore." Gaining back his confidence, he looked back. "It is my wish." "Mine also," she whispered in the same husky tone. "It may be a time; we must be careful." "I know. Thank you." He took lifted one of her hands upward to kiss her palm. "I do love you." She lifted his other hand and kissed it likewise, saying no word. Then she stepped backwards, making a formal bow. "Until tomorrow, John." He returned the bow, but stopped her as she started for the door, "A moment," he chuckled. "You're glowing again." "As are you." But she breathed deeply, lowering her eyes, and when she lifted them she was Ambassador Delenn again, eyes a cool friendliness. Facing her, for a moment, was Captain Sheridan. Then his smile broke through betraying his emotion. "I'll practice, I promise." He took another breath, then opened the door. ===end===