From Adele_Hutchinson@brown.edu Sun Aug 4 01:12:21 1996 Date: Sun, 7 Jul 1996 16:22:48 -0400 (EDT) From: Adele Hutchinson Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "Who Would Have Thought?" Hi! I wasn't planning on writing anything else right away, but such is life.... Inga and I were complaining that we would have liked to see more about Delenn's adjustment to her change second season. Inga said she wanted somebody to write a story to fill in some of the blanks, and persistently encouraged me to write one. I said if I had a plot of some sort I might be inclined to give it a try. So she came up with this idea, and I had to put my money where my mouth was, so to speak. And this is the result. The story, which btw does NOT involve any time travel or switching consciousness (I know, a stretch for me!), is set during "A Race Through Dark Places". Usual disclaimers-- just borrowing a few of jms' characters (and one scene as well), and he can have them back whenever he wants. Please, please, please let me know what you think! Adele Adele_Hutchinson@brown.edu -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Who Would Have Thought? "This is an outrage!" Londo Mollari's words echoed in the Council chambers. Delenn winced inwardly, familiar with the coming tirade. "The only outrage is that we weren't able to blast any other Centauri ships into the Underworld in the process!" G'Kar banged his fist on the table, causing small ripples to form on the surface of Delenn's tea. "You murder 23 innocent Centauri lives..." "Innocent!?" "And all you can say is you wish you had killed more? An outrage, I tell you!" "Those Centauri were assassins, sent to kill key members of the Kha'ri and the Narn military." Delenn sighed, trying to contain her frustration. Council meetings lately had degenerated to shouting matches between the Narn and Centauri ambassadors, neither of whom were willing to back down from their posturings in order to seek a peaceful solution. They were either too scared or too proud to investigate the possibilities, and meanwhile a number of people were dying, most of them Narn. In the wings, a greater evil waited, slowly building its forces under the distraction of the Narn-Centauri conflict. Yet now was not the time to call attention to that coming threat; to do so would risk a premature strike that would catch the side of light unprepared. Delenn picked up her cup and sipped the lukewarm tea without tasting it. "That ship contained a deep space expedition! They were returning from an assignment near the Rim when they had mechanical difficulties," Londo explained, addressing the members of the League rather than the Narn ambassador. "And they just happened to land on the Narn colony where the Kha'ri was holding secret meetings!" "An accident concerning the navigation equipment, I am told." But perhaps it was not too early to consider potential allies. She believed more strongly as each day passed that humans would play a central role in the war effort, even if the Grey Council was not as confident. The similarities with the prophesies were too great to ignore. Still, uniting the two peoples seemed an unlikely possibility at this point, both from the human and Minbari position. The Earth government, though on the surface friendly, was deeply suspicious of the Minbari and Minbari power. Appointing Sheridan to replace Sinclair as military governor of B5 proved that. She glanced at the human seated beside her. "Ambassador Mollari, Ambassador G'Kar, please. Do either of you have anything constructive to add to the *original* discussion about trade routes for the League?" Sheridan asked, trying to return order to the meeting. They started to object, but he silenced them with a stern look. He might feel uncertain about his skill as a diplomat, but his ability to contain the Narn and Centauri ambassadors proved his fears groundless. Her people had bristled at his appointment; they considered "Starkiller" to be without honor after his actions against the *Blackstar*. Yet Delenn saw those same actions as part of humanity's gift that they had yet to realize they possessed. They never gave up, never surrendered, even in the face of insurmountable odds. They seemed to excel most when the circumstances were darkest, and Sheridan's detonation of the *Blackstar* was a prime example of this trait. In the struggle that lay ahead, they needed leaders who were at their best when facing destruction. People who were not afraid to risk everything for victory, who were not willing to surrender or back down. People, perhaps, like John Sheridan. The price of surrender was too high, and defeat unthinkable. She felt a chill creep up her spinal column, tightening the muscles in its path until she felt her neck twitch painfully. She reached up and rubbed the spot, feeling the silky human hair that brushed against the back of her hand. It was her most obvious human trait, at least outwardly, and had proved to be more difficult to manage than she would have imagined. She had never thought about the fact that hair grew like fingernails did, and even required cutting from time to time. What had Ivanova called it? 'A pain in the neck?' Although hair did not grow out of the neck... She had so much to learn about the humans still, so much to evaluate before the inevitability of war. How did Sheridan and Babylon 5 fit into the future? She turned her attention back to the meeting, making a mental note to find out more about the new captain of Babylon 5. Perhaps she could find an appropriate human custom that would give her the opportunity to sit down and talk to him, to learn more about his character and his people. She might even learn something about her new human side. Judging from his record and his brief tenure on B5, he had the potential to become an important ally. Even if the rest of the Grey Council was too short-sighted to see it. *** "Ah, Captain, there you are. I was looking for you. Can I speak to you for a moment? Privately?" "Of course," Sheridan replied, then turned to Dr. Franklin who was walking at his side. "Why don't you go ahead. I'll catch up." Turning his attention back to Delenn, he asked, "So what can I do for you Ambassador?" "I was wondering if you could help me." Help her what? She wasn't sure how to proceed. "This is difficult." Her research had not been clear. She sighed, and gripped her hands in each other. "If you could help me better understand what it is to be human." She looked at him to gauge his expression. His face was unreadable. Plunging ahead, she continued, "Though I may now look more like you, I am not one of you, and if I am to be a bridge of understanding between humans and Minbari, it would help if I knew more about your people." "I see," he responded, although his tone was not as certain as his words. "What would you suggest?" "Dinner." "Dinner!" He seemed surprised. She wondered if her invitation was inappropriate, but it was too late now. She stopped walking and looked at him again. "Dinner! In all my time here I have rarely sat and just talked with you or any other human. I think I would like to." "Talk about what?" He still seemed surprised, but he was smiling at her. Perhaps that was a good sign. "Everything. Except business and negotiations, and whose trade agreement is most unfair to the other." Sheridan grunted, an expression she had learned indicated agreement or understanding. "Just talk." "All right," he replied. "I'll set it up and get back to you. This evening okay?" Delenn nodded and inwardly sighed relief. "Until then Captain?" She left quickly, glancing back over her shoulder once. He seemed pleased, although still astonished. She missed his parting comment. "One day they're shooting at you, the next they're taking you out to dinner." *** There was much to do in preparation for tonight. Delenn wanted to perform her part of the "dinner date" ritual correctly, although she wasn't sure what that entailed. Her research had uncovered a number of different and often conflicting answers to her most basic questions about the event. For example, several sources described an odd notion called "fashionably late", suggesting that the woman arrive several minutes, even a half hour late, or alternatively, if the man were picking her up, she should not be ready until after he arrived. Such a strange custom, and yet no source would relate the reasons for such a thing. Then there was the question of what to wear. She wanted to dress in the appropriate human attire for a dinner date, but hoped it would not be considered offensive. She was part human, though, and she was participating in a human ritual, and to experience that ritual properly she should immerse herself within it. Including wearing the proper attire. But what was appropriate? How formal should she be? A trip to the Zocalo boutiques was in order. She wondered if she should ask somebody along to help her choose. Lennier? She chuckled softly. He would be more lost than she was. Commander Ivanova? She had been quite helpful teaching her how to manage her hair. But she hated to impose on the commander, especially after the consternation Delenn's questions about her odd cramps had caused her. No, this was something she should handle on her own. Once at the Zocalo, Delenn paused, considering which store would be best to start with. Picking one at random, Delenn hesitantly padded into the interior. A few human customers shot her surprised glances, then quickly looked away. The sales clerk sat behind the register reading a copy of _Universe Today_, oblivious to the customers browsing in the store. Scanning the room, Delenn realized finding an appropriate outfit would be a more difficult task than she first imagined. There were dozens of racks with many different clothing styles. Where should she start? What did she need? A dress would probably work best, a black dress according to her research. A "little black dress" actually. Did "little" refer to size? She sifted through a rack of dresses, trying to picture the hanging clothes as they would appear on her. She wondered if wearing human clothes tonight was such a good idea. "May I help you with something, Ambassador?" asked a woman's voice behind her, startling Delenn from her musing. Delenn turned to find the clerk who had been reading the newspaper earlier. "I need to buy a human outfit, but I am not certain what would be appropriate." If the clerk was surprised by having to advise the Minbari ambassador on human clothing, she didn't show it in her reaction. "What kind of occasion is it? Will it be formal or informal?" "A dinner date. I believe formal would be best." The clerk raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. She led Delenn to another rack with more ornate clothing. "You probably want a dress, then." "Ah, yes. A small black dress?" Delenn replied, uncertain. The clerk smiled and searched through the rack, quickly pulling each dress across the pole as Delenn watched. She stopped at one dress and looked at Delenn appraisingly. "You want to impress this guy?" she asked. It seemed an odd question. Did she? "Yes, I believe so." "Here, how about this one?" she asked, pulling out a long black dress. "It's not exactly a little black dress, but it's the same idea. What size are you?" Size? Delenn hadn't thought of that. She had no idea. The clerk seemed to sense her confusion. "Never mind." She held the dress against Delenn and judged its fit against her figure. To Delenn it looked a bit small. "Try this one," she said, handing Delenn the dress. "It should fit perfectly." Delenn eyed the garment suspiciously, but decided to try it anyway. She walked in the direction the woman had pointed and found a curtained off dressing room with a mirror inside. Hanging the dress on a hook, she inspected the Minbari robes she now wore before slipping out of them. She removed the shift she wore underneath and tried to pull the dress on over her head. It wouldn't slide past her shoulders. Confused, she pulled it off. It hadn't looked *that* small. She examined the dress, looking for another opening or a fastener of some sort. Finally she found a metallic seam on the back. It didn't budge when she tugged at the fabric, but released easily when she pulled a small metal runner near the top. Delenn decided to change her approach, and stepped into it instead of pulling it over her head. Turning to the mirror she found the runner and struggled to pull it up again, amazed her arms were able to contort into a position to reach it. She pulled her hair out of the neckline and looked at the outfit in the mirror from the front. The fit was tighter than the clothes she normally wore, but not overly binding. Still, the dress was so *bare*. The neckline, though closed, had a cut out section that dropped to her bustline. The bodice clung to her shape, the long skirt dropping straight from the waist with a slit climbing up the back of her legs. She turned, studying the fit from different angles, not sure how she felt about wearing the dress in public. "How're you doing in there, Ambassador?" the clerk asked loudly from outside the dressing stall. "Um, I am not certain. Do you have anything more covered up perhaps?" Delenn asked, opening the door to admit the woman. Her eyes widened when she saw Delenn. "I do not know if this would be appropriate for the occasion." "I do have something more conservative, but you said you wanted to impress him. *This* will turn heads, I assure you." *** Delenn emerged from the shower, her hair wrapped clumsily in one towel, her body wrapped in another. She looked warily at the black dress hanging from her closet door, still not certain she should wear it. Did she want to impress him? Yes. Why? She wasn't certain. She thought again about John Sheridan. Her intuition, her "gut feeling" as the humans would say, believed he could be an important ally against the darkness. The other Minbari were quick to dismiss Sheridan "Starkiller", but she sensed there was more to him than the surface suggested. Perhaps he was even part of the prophesy. Already she had risked her life and her future on her own role in the prophesy. Was he the other it spoke of? One of two who would 'together' lead the next great war against the ancient enemy. She frowned into the mirror on her dressing table. The specific word used in the prophesy to mean 'together', *zil'tas*, had gained the connotation of a romantic bond in the modern Minbari language, although the word in the ancient language was uninflected. She released her hair from the towel, using her fingers to shake it out and weave a few escaped strands back under her headbone. She arranged it experimentally while it was still wet, then dried it as commander Ivanova had demonstrated. She brushed it in broad strokes and began forming a twist on one side. Once finished, she tucked the ends under and pinned them in place. The result was attractive, combining her Minbari and human features nicely. She fastened the earrings she had bought with her dress onto her fully human ears, then turned her attention to the "little black dress". Removing it from the hanger, Delenn sighed, then slipped it on and struggled to fasten the "zipper" on the back. She was thankful she could manage the contraption on her own; she really didn't want to ask Lennier to help. She regarded her reflection in the mirror critically and adjusted her dress, smoothing the material over her hips. A Minbari would never wear something so revealing in public. Delenn paused, startled by her own thoughts. A few weeks ago she told the station Minbari she was now more "one of you" than ever. She checked the chrono by her bedside. 2000 hours exactly. Sheridan's message had asked her to meet him at the Fresh Air Restaurant at 2000 hours. How late was fashionably late? She took another look in the mirror. Turn heads, indeed. She strode out of her quarters with a confidence she was not sure she felt. *** "It would appear we have much more in common than we imagined." Her original reference was the Earthers' and Minbaris' shared appreciation for humor, but the statement was an accurate assessment of the entire evening, Delenn mused as she entered her quarters. She slipped out of the restrictive black shoes and walked barefoot to the kitchenette to prepare some tea. His reply to her observation had been equally fitting: "Who would have thought?" Who indeed? Dinner had been successful, more enlightening and more fun than she imagined it could be. She liked spending time with John Sheridan, perhaps more than she wanted to admit to herself. She remembered how their eyes met for an instant after his reply, and how she was overcome by a wave of self-consciousness as she felt her cheeks warm with color. Her human emotional responses could be so disconcerting. She had no point of reference for them. Delenn finished making her tea and carried it into her bedroom. She sat down and unclasped the earrings she wore, rubbing her earlobes to return the circulation to them. She and Sheridan had talked for hours, but the time had passed so quickly. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed as much in a single evening. It was the first time she felt completely comfortable with another human, no longer aware of their strangeness-- or her own. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair out of its arrangement. She felt like she belonged for the first time in the nearly three months since she stepped out of the Chrysalis. Like she was not alone in the universe. But the look of loathing on the Minbari warrior she passed after dinner reminded her that she truly was alone. Sheridan had insisted on walking her home through the Gardens, part of the ritual apparently. They meandered through the park, ignoring more efficent routes to the Green Sector, talking as they had at dinner about everything and nothing. She was still smiling when she met the warrior's gaze. "*Malkrah* he hissed under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. Sheridan noticed the look, even returned with an icy stare of his own, but did not comprehend the insult of the warrior's oath. He could not understand the disrespect of addressing a Satai in that manner. The word *malkrah* had many connotations in her language. Individual. Separate. Unique. But the meaning his insult carried was deeper. Outside of the whole. Parriah. Her transformation, meant to be a bridge between the two halves of their souls, had excluded her from both. She understood the consequences of the change before stepping into the Chrysalis, and accepted them. The transformation was important for her people and for the war to come. Yet she was unprepared for the magnitude of the hatred and prejudice. How would they ever come together to fight as one in the war to come? *Zil'tas*.... At least John Sheridan seemed willing to accept her transformation. She had intended to carefully gather information this evening in order to evaluate his role in the prophesy, but soon lost herself in the flow of conversation, unwilling to direct its content. He was a good man, no matter what the rest of the Minbari thought of his actions during the war. She sensed he still felt uncomfortable in his position, but had grown to accept it. "The universe puts us in places where we can learn," she had told him only a few weeks earlier in the gardens. "They are never easy places. They are right. Wherever we are is the right place at the right time. Pain sometimes comes. It is part of constantly being born." Why had she felt compelled to comfort him? Why was it so important that he know this? "The universe knows what it is doing," she reminded herself. And somewhere, deep down, so did she. -=end=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Adele Hutchinson/ Aphasia Research Center/ Boston V.A.M.C./ Brown University e-mail: Adele_Hutchinson@brown.edu *** "Your scientists have yet to discover how neural networks create self consciousness, let alone how the human brain processes two dimensional retinal images into the three dimensional phenomenon known as perception. Yet you somehow brazenly declare that seeing is believing. Mr. Crikinson, your scientific illiteracy makes me shudder" -Man in Black, "X-Files" -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=