Fic

[eye_of_a_cat]

Better late than never, yes?

Part 1 is here, part 2 is here. No warnings here, just a bunch of conversations. (With thanks to deborah_judge for suggesting Minbari rituals many months ago.)


Tales of War, 3

It seemed so difficult for her to be still. Even as she paced back and forth in a sequence of steps and turns he couldn't follow, she was twisting at the cuffs of her dress, shaking strands of hair away from her face. It was unlike her, and it troubled him. He should have known the right words to bring her comfort; instead, all he could do was ask if anything was wrong, and accept her answer in silence when she said no.

She left him with her work when the call came, and he heard Sheridan's words filtered through transcripts of council meetings. Apologies and Delenn's laughter - Sheridan had lost track of time and forgotten about one of the minor rituals. And she was relieved, at least, and this should be all that mattered to him, but when she numbered the rituals in correcting Sheridan he could make no sense out of the structure she gave. He would not believe she had forgotten, and so he tried to put it from his mind, until she knelt at his side to ask what troubled him and he could be silent no longer.

"It is not my place to ask," he said, "but what you told him - the order, for -" And then his words faltered.

She understood anyway. "We have not completed all the rituals," she said. "Since he is not Minbari, some things are no longer necessary, and humans do not believe in seeing a true face as we do. It changes nothing."

At first he thought she was teasing him, and then that maybe he should hear it that way for her sake. She would not think this. "With respect, surely -"

"Enough, Lennier," she snapped. The shock was cold and sharp as metal; he stammered apologies into the space between them as she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "Forgive me."

He found a half-smile from somewhere, stranded between words. "Of course."

"I, uh... It has been difficult." She looked so tired, and now the only words he had to reassure her were those he could not speak; if she believed that taking Sheridan as her partner was part of her prophecy, then he would believe it too, or fail her in failing. But she should not be forced into a mockery of their customs by a human's lack of understanding, and nothing in her prophecies would ever demand this. He was almost glad when she dismissed it with a turn of her head. "Never mind this," she said. "We have work to do."

~

Sheridan's quarters were a shrine to distraction, data crystals scattered across every surface and mugs of cold coffee half-buried by stacks of papers. She tried not to stare too much. "I wasn't expecting to see you," he said, clearing spaces around her. "I meant to clear up in here this morning, but I got working on something and I lost track of time, so - there, have a seat."

It was clearer, now she could see him like this. There was no longer any need to question whether her own mind saw worries that did not exist. "Working?" she said.

"It's just some old stuff I needed to go through."

He was smiling, but it was not his smile, and when she laid a hand on his arm she felt muscles bunch beneath it. "Something is wrong," she said. "Tell me."

The worst of it was his lack of surprise, as though he knew before she did that this moment would come. "There was a soul hunter here," he said. "Years ago. It called you Satai."

She smoothed the creases of his jacket out against his shoulders as she spoke. "Satai is a title. It, ah..."

"I know what it means." His hands covered hers, holding them still against his chest.

Someone had told him, then, finally. "Then you also know that I was once one of the Grey Council," she said.

He was shaking his head. "No," he said. "No. That's not how it works. You're on the Grey Council for life."

"Minbari are on the Grey Council for life. I was no longer considered worthy."

She would have curled his hands around her own, but they were set like stone. "But when you first came here. When Sinclair was in command."

"Until my transformation, yes." And it was better this way, after all. "When we learned the truth about Sinclair, we knew that none of our people could be trusted to watch him without betraying our knowledge. I was the youngest of the Council, and I could be spared. But I should have told you this. I'm sorry, John."

He stared at her for a moment, his expression oddly close to laughter, then pulled back and let her hands fall away. "That's it?" he said. "You should have told me and you're sorry?"

"There is nothing more to say."

"Do you realise what this means? If they find out about this back home, if ISN get hold of it - Damn it, Delenn, people have been saying the Minbari run this place ever since we built it, and now you're telling me they were right?"

His words burnt like flames between them, but they would not touch her. "You do not believe that," she said.

"I believe I've got three Minbari cruisers guarding an EarthForce station, and you never told me the truth."

So many truths she had never told him, and now in his anger she found herself wanting a better time than this where she could give him each one: snow falling on the last day of her noviciate, the rough cloth of a grey robe against her neck. "What is this?" she said instead. "What happened while I was gone?"

His eyes stayed fixed on hers. "You never said where you were going."

"John, listen to me." She caught herself before reaching out for his hand, no longer sure he would let her. "Whatever you have heard -"

"You think someone else told me all this, don't you? It wouldn't have mattered if I found out myself? I've got a station full of people to protect here, and half my command staff don't trust the Minbari and they don't trust you and they sure as hell won't be trusting me any more if they think I sold us all out. You jeopardised everything I'm trying to do here, and you need a reason for why I'm mad?"

"What you are trying to do here?" He was silent. "I have never given you reason to doubt my belief in this place. Was your trust in me held so lightly that you would abandon it now?"

She had seen the anger in his eyes before. "I killed my wife because I trusted you," he said.

She was gone before the sound of his voice died away.

~

She wasn't sleeping, and that was half a relief. She was sitting by a candle in an almost-dark room, the glow of the flame on her skin, and she didn't turn to look as he sat down beside her. "What I said about Anna," he said. "I didn't mean - I don't blame you for that."

She never looked away from the candle, and her voice was distant. "You have no need to apologise."

"Someone told me you were lying to me. I didn't know what to think."

She let out a long breath and leant back into the curl of his arm, her body warm against his, and if he could have forgotten the whole thing he'd have done it. "Who told you this?" she asked.

"I didn't get her name." And he couldn't stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of it. "God, this sounds so stupid. She said she was from your clan, and she gave me some kind of welcome message and then told me that. I should have just spoken to you."

"My clan do not think as well of me as they once did," she said. The candle-flame dipped and spluttered, casting dancing shadows around them. "I returned to Minbar to ask for their blessing on our joining. Maybe I should have expected this."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close enough to feel her breathing. "I didn't know," he said. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"I never told you. How could you have known?" She threaded her fingers through his, curling them into a tight knot against her palm. "It was reasonable for you to assume the worst of me."

"It wasn't. I should have trusted you." He kissed the bare skin of her shoulder, buried his face in her hair. "I do trust you."

"Even know that you know what I was?"

And it didn't matter, none of it mattered, not any more. "Yes," he said. "I love you. I just had to know, if - in case it was about Anna."

"And this is the worst you could imagine." Her eyes were still fixed on her candle, even now, but he could hear the tears in her voice. "What if it had been true? What if I had sent her to that place and told the Shadows to take her?"

"You didn't. I never thought that, never." And he hadn't, not even when that thing they made out of her came back. "I know you," he said.

She turned to press her face into his neck, one hand on his shoulder as if he'd ever leave her. "There is one thing I have kept from you," she said. "Just as I have seen your true face while you slept, there is - there should have been - another ritual for you to see mine."

"Because you didn't want me to find out you were on the Grey Council?" She laughed, almost. "Fine," he said, "I'll do it."

Her breath was warm against his skin as she spoke. "You must ask me three questions."

"What questions?"

"Questions whose answers you wish to know. You have learned that I was Satai - are you curious about nothing else?" He could feel her fingers gripping his shoulder, the curve of her bowed headbone against his chest. "Anything, and I will tell you," she said.

And he couldn't, after all. He couldn't say the words, and he tore aside all the threads of guesses that were just beginning to weave themselves into knowledge, hugging her closer and repeating that he wouldn't do it when she protested at his silence. "Tell me," he said. "Just tell me." But when she began to speak, her body shook with tears, and he found that he didn't care about words any more.