From fmlecou@mailbox.syr.edu Fri Mar 29 21:16:16 1996 Date: Wed, 27 Mar 1996 01:09:46 -0500 (EST) From: "Felicia M. Le Cou" Reply-To: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net, unrestrb5@listserv.syr.edu Subject: Mind Music: Prelude This takes place after The Point of No Return --Immerito-- Mind Music The high treble notes of half forgotten classical music floated elusively through John Sheridan's mind. *Ba-ba-ba-baaah, Ba-ba-ba-baaah....* Three short notes, then one long. High A, or high B--a trumpet or french horn, but he couldn't remember far enough back to his pre-academy music class. Frustrated, he sunk lower into the corner of the sofa. He needed to relax. He needed sleep. In the darkness the unidentifiable tune consumed him. The musical memory--reminiscent of a sad marching tune. Minor key, he decided. He remembered that sad and uneasy chords were usually minor, and happy or sure chords were usually major. Sure chords...surely he would go insane. *Ba-ba-ba-baaah, Ba-ba-ba-baaah, Ba-ba-ba-ba--* Then the pitched heightened, by a third? Flowing, falling in a four note descending scale, ending in minor. Then, the refrain began again punching a note about a third higher than the previously ending. Three short notes, then one long. Why couldn't he recall the composer? Or the name of the music? It was famous enough for even him to remember under conventional circumstances. *Ba-ba-ba-baaah, Ba-ba-ba-baaah....* /Bli-bip/ the door indicator intruded on his mind's denial. Sheridan overlooked it. A deep breath. A memory of music. Minor, up a third. Louder, growing in his mind.... /Bli-bip/ ...rising in pitch, falling in descending scale, then starting-- "John," called Delenn's voice, muffled through the door, "are you there?" The music stopped, an unresolved chord silently screaming to play itself out. "Yes, I'm here," Sheridan responded. The door swished open and he stood, shakily. "Lights." He squinted, accosted full-force by illumination. Delenn entered his quarters, paused--still silence mantled in deep blue and vibrant red. She studied him, lips pressed. A frown creased her forehead beneath dark bangs. He shuffled, his appearance must be less than ideal: jacket undone, pants rumpled. He couldn't remember when he last shaved. "When did you last sleep?" Delenn finally asked. "Last night...," or was that two nights ago? "No ... I think, I--" Sheridan broke off, confused. When did he last sleep? "It is as I thought," Delenn advanced, reaching out a hand to motion Sheridan back onto the sofa. She sat beside him, tilting her head, dark hair loose around her shoulders. "There's too much going on," his throat was tight, voice strained. "If I sleep now I might not get something done that needs to get done. I can't afford to miss anything." Delenn nodded, "Then it is as bad as your news channels indicate?" Her eyes caught him, pools of green waters. How to answer a yes-or-no question? How bad was it? How bad? "The EarthAlliance is as close to civil war as it gets," he began. "Only a few military vessels are rebelling the new orders. Things are coming through the chain of command now...." He looked down at his hands. Delenn's hands, half concealed beneath silky blue renaissance sleeves, covered them. They were warm. "The chain of command...," he looked back up, "I always thought it was important to follow the chain of command. If you don't then... things fall apart. And now--" "Things are falling apart," Delenn finished for him. Sheridan nodded, remembering what Lt. Corwin said earlier in C & C. "What happened?" the young man had asked. "What did we do wrong?" And Sheridan didn't have an answer for him. What did he do wrong? What could he do right? "Delenn," he said, as a thought occurred to him. "Babylon 5 won't be a safe place for much longer. At the moment communications are down, but once they are up...." "Yes," Delenn squeezed his hands. "Once they are up, I don't know what will happen." He watched her eyes a moment. Her gaze, steady, did not waver. He half hoped she would give him direction. Tell him what must be done. But Delenn looked away, stood from the sofa. Her luminescent robes whispering as she moved. "The Minbari government is aware of the potential problem. Should serious fighting break out...our citizens will evacuate. And if they are not allowed to evacuate," she crossed her arms in a defensive gesture, "Battlecruisers will leave hyperspace and ensure they can evacuate. People are already leaving the station." "Perhaps you should leave with them," the words slipped out of Sheridan's mouth. He didn't mean them to sound casual and winced when surprise crossed Delenn's face. "What?" But he meant them. "The station is not a safe place," he spoke, voice sounding flat even to himself. "I don't know what will happen...." Delenn looked as if she might say something when he trailed off. Her eyes widened, watered, but she remained silent. "There are only two things that can happen," he struggled to his feet, feeling faint, trying to ignore the white noise building in his ears. "Fight, and possibly be destroyed, or surrender." His words sounded as if they were coming from very far away, but he continued. "Either way, I don't want you in the middle of it all, Delenn. I couldn't...." He didn't finish his sentence. Couldn't. Could not what? Delenn's eyes widened and she outstretched her hands towards him. He had to say what he had to say before-- The world fell away from him. Warm hands slowed his descent, helped him back to the couch. A four note descending scale, *ba-ba- ba-baaah* Music. *Ba-ba-ba-baaah, ba-ba-ba-baaah....* He let it play, let it sweep his conscious mind away from the worries and panics, from the rabid wolves rapidly devouring his sanity, into a temporary haven where there was nothing but the music and Delenn's warm hand against his forehead wiping away cold sweat. Music. He remembered the name of it. Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, Third Movement. It filled his mind. **&@&** He smelled citrus. More specifically, he smelled oranges. Smooth skin brushed across his forehead, wiping away dampness. Sheridan opened his eyes; Delenn's eyes studied him from only inches away. "I should have asked you when was the last time you ate, as well," she said. Pain shot through the back of his neck. He sat upright, pulling his head out of its awkward resting position. "Uhm..." Delenn indicated the small plate on the floor near her knees, "I couldn't find very much in your keep. But you must eat something--" "I've been too keyed up." He could smell the orange, it drifted to him like nectar on a spring breeze. But his stomach clenched at the thought of eating. "If you do not eat, John," Delenn threatened, "I shall have to inform MedLab." "That should go over well," Sheridan commented wryly, thinking of how swamped MedLab was after the Zocalo riot. He accepted the orange slice Delenn pressed into his hand. After he gulped it down, his stomach rumbled for more. Delenn moved back as he sat down on the floor beside her, crossing his legs. She must have ransacked the kitchenette: he didn't even know he had peanut butter much less the bread she found to go with it. Sheridan consumed the plate's contents, and then realized that Delenn hadn't spoken since she threatened to report him for not eating. She leaned against the couch, nearly sitting on her knees but with both legs bent to one side princess style. She still held an unpeeled orange in one hand. "Thank you," he said. Delenn nodded. Sheridan looked closer, noticing slight red rims around her eyes. She looked upset. Had she been crying? "Delenn?" "Would you like a glass of water?" she asked, starting to get up. "Hold on, sit still," Sheridan stopped her from rising. "I can get it," he rose and walked to the kitchenette and poured two glasses from the water carafe. "Contrary to popular belief, I *can* take care of myself." Delenn smiled; Sheridan felt better, calmer. He didn't want to upset her. He sat back down, handed Delenn the glass. She sipped at it. "How do you feel?" she asked. "Better, thanks to you." Sheridan looked at her, wondering just when they reached this level of closeness. Her concern for his well being prompted her actions this evening, and his concern for her prompted-- "Delenn, when Marcus returns from scouting sector 800, I want--" "No," Delenn slowly shook her head. "I will not leave." What must he say to her? He silently watched as she began peeling the orange. One piece, two, then three. She dropped the skins on the empty plate. She offered him half of the fruit, he accepted. "Delenn--" "No. Your judgement in this matter is obscured by fatigue and hunger." He shook his head. What must he say? He couldn't imagine the universe existing if something happened to her, especially if he was able to prevent it. Too many times he imagined her death, was afraid it occurred, but she managed to survive. The first situation, when she and Lennier entered the plague quarantine for the Markabs, only what he could describe as cold terror seized his heart when the vault door opened and everyone appeared to be dead. The second situation, when she offered her life to the Vorlon's inquisitor, in exchange for his, all he could think was that he didn't want to live knowing she died instead. He didn't want her to die. The third situation, although not as serious, occurred when a terrorist planted a series of bombs throughout the station. Delenn hadn't been hurt, but Lennier had. And when Sheridan first heard about the incident, he initially feared the worst. He was afraid she was among those Minbari who died in the docking bay blast, the Minbari that exited the same transport she did. "You may have other options, when the time comes," Delenn finished her last piece of orange. She glared at him until he finished his as well. "But my leaving now will not help you manifest those options." "I just want...you to be safe." Delenn smiled, "I know. That is forgivable." "If we have serious problems, and your involvement with our group is exposed, won't the Grey Council be...displeased?" Sheridan tried to speak persuasively, but Delenn didn't act persuaded. She laughed, softly. "The Council has suffered displeasure before." He frowned. He was tired and knew that was the reason why he couldn't think of the right words, convincing words. Not that he had ever been able to talk Delenn out of something she was intent on in the past. "John, I will not leave," her voice--even, decided. "Come what may, I will not leave you while I am still alive." Not while she was still alive. The inner corners of his eyes constricted, painfully. "Delenn--" his voice broke. Not while she was still alive, and he didn't want to have to live if she wasn't alive. "Delenn," he tried to speak again. The past two days had been overly intense. The past two weeks a near nightmare as he watched the government he tried to keep faith in completely fall apart. The past two minutes--a dream unfolding in the middle of the nightmare, a musical refrain keeping everything else away. To be concluded..... (C) by fl From fmlecou@mailbox.syr.edu Fri Mar 29 21:16:25 1996 Date: Wed, 27 Mar 1996 17:48:44 -0500 (EST) From: "Felicia M. Le Cou" Reply-To: b5-creative@blob.best.net To: b5-creative@blob.best.net Subject: Mind Music: Edited Coda This segment contains emotional mush. This is your warning. --Immerito-- He tentatively held the palm of his hand to Delenn's face. She leaned slightly, bringing one hand up to cover his. Her other hand mirrored his action, lightly stroking near the corner of his mouth. Her face moved closer. "Do you understand?" Delenn spoke, her voice somewhere between reality and a whisper. "Do you understand why I cannot leave?" Sheridan shook his head, brushing with his fingertips the bangs that fell across her eyes. "No," he said, "I don't understand. I love you, but I don't understand." He kissed her. Lightly, not sure how she would respond. Her lips, moist, warm, pliant against his; her arms moved around him, pulling him closer. She kissed him. More sure than at first. The tip of her tongue lightly grazed his upper lip, tingling a sensory trail that forced him to pause, to catch his breath. He held her face in his hands, watching her half-closed eyes; deep, fathomless-- "John?" she questioned, focussing on him as he studied her. Her breathing was shallow, so was his. "Delenn," he breathed her name. "I am here," she said, pulling his face to her, kissing him softly on the lips. "I will always be here." **&@&** Delenn shifted, pulling the covers away from the bed. "When I told Commander Ivanova I would look in on you," she said, motioning Sheridan over, "I believe she thought I would...ensure that you were resting, and not...uhm...how did she say it? 'Staring at the walls'?" "I was listening to music, then you came." Delenn pulled the covers over him, smoothing the fabric as she literally tucked them under his chin. She moved as to leave, but he caught her wrist. "Please stay." "I will not leave the station," she replied. "That's not what I meant," he mumbled. Delenn smiled, "I know. Sleep, now." Her voice soothed, resolved all dissonant chords. "I promise to be here when you wake." The last thing he was aware of was Delenn; slipping under the covers, snuggling back against him, wrapping his arms around her body.... **&@&** Silence's warm blanket eased Sheridan's mind back to consciousness. He noticed-- Quiet. Stillness. Absence of any sound. The warm stir of Delenn's breath near his arm. Strong, steady, but completely silent; Delenn's breathing indicated that she was completely asleep. /Blip-bib-bib/ The communications console demanded his attention. Delenn stirred; he carefully withdrew his arm as she submerged into a pillow. He slipped back into his pants. "Captain, I'm sorry to disturb you," Ivanova apologized when he reached the console, still buttoning up his shirt. She looked tired in the view-screen. Her hair limp, eyes drawn. Guilt. "No, no, I should be in C & C--" "No, it's not that," Ivanova quickly explained, shaking her head. "It's just, the Pak'Ma'Ra ambassador has been calling every fifteen minutes for the last hour--" *Vaal Chen!* The sound, Delenn's voice, sounded suspiciously like swearing. "--looking for Ambassador Delenn...." Delenn came out of the bedroom wrapped in a blanket, clutching her gown of several layers, and frowning. "...is she still there?" Ivanova asked. "Uhm..." Sheridan wasn't sure how to reply. "Yes," Delenn spoke up. "I missed a meeting," she explained to him, hurriedly dressing. The layers went on quicker than they came off, he noted. Delenn moved into the view-screen's view; Ivanova's face didn't indicate any reaction to the Minbari ambassador's disheveled appearance. "Commander, please convey my regret for the missed meeting. And, if you could, indicate that I will reschedule at his earliest convenience?" Sheridan shuffled uncomfortably. His feet were cold; he should have put on socks. Ivanova nodded, "Yes, of course...." Voices raised in Ivanova's background. *Commander...?* Ivanova looked to the side of the monitor. "What is it?" Sheridan asked, tensing up. He was vaguely aware of Delenn's touch on his arm, calming, centering. Ivanova turned back to the view-screen, frowning, concerned; plainly torn about what to say. She looked at Delenn. "Well, did he sleep?" "He...did." What was this? Did everyone on the station think he was incapable of looking after himself? "Commander...Susan, what is happening up there?" Ivanova pressed her lips together, her expression grim. "We just got word from Io--a warning." Ivanova stopped speaking, swallowed, took a deep breath. "An EarthForce fleet just entered jumpgate...on the way here." "I'm on my way," Sheridan told her firmly; Ivanova nodded. The transmission went dead. His eyes locked in a gaze with Delenn's for several seconds. Seconds seemed like years. **&@&** The stars shone dull and cold through the observation portals, seemingly twirling clockwise through the transparent glass. Sheridan stood alone on the deck dressed in his EarthForce uniform. Why is it the stars could seem so beautiful and menacing at the same time? A discordant thought. "Stars give life; they can destroy it as well," Delenn walked to where Sheridan stood on the observation deck. "Comforting, yet disturbing sometimes. Destruction holds its own beauty, and that disturbs sentients as well." He nodded; she voiced words to his random thoughts. She stood beside him and they both looked out in the silence. Then she turned to him, resting a hand lightly on his chest. "Anything?" she asked. He shook his head, "It's doubtful that they are jumping directly here. That would leave us too easily prepared. They will want to surprise us, if they can. Arrive when we are the most vulnerable, least able to--" He broke off, realizing he spoke about EarthAlliance ships as if they were long hard enemies already committed to war. Delenn looked away. "What is it?" "I have to leave; I've been summoned," she looked back up, "to help manifest those options...." He covered her hand with his, held it there, over his heart. "I will come back," Delenn said. "I know," he said, wishing she sounded as if she believed her own words. Delenn withdrew her hand from his grasp as she stepped back. He didn't try to hold her. "John--" her voice sounded strained. He watched her as she held one hand over her heart and extended the other to him. He stepped towards her: one step. "--I am still alive," she said and whirled away, the sound of her footsteps too quickly becoming distant. Memory of music fled. THE END --Immerito-- Copyright 1996 By Felicia Le Cou. All right reserved, save for those already owned by others. Author's e-mail: fmlecou@mailbox.syr.edu.