Title: Decorum, Vows and Honor

Author: Third Charm

Fandom: Babylon 5

Pairings: Marcus/Neroon.

Story Type: Romantic Comedy, Drama

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and all subsequent major characters, plots, and ideas are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Inc. and Warner Bros. The following story was written only for the purposes of entertainment. No income had been made.

Warnings: VERY, VERY AU (As in canon is just a guideline folks!) and AT, not beta read, ATL death of a canon character, profanity, slash and erotic episodes.

Spoilers: You name; it's in there.

Summary: This is a sequel "Family, Families, and "Families". And now the fat's REALLY in the fire!

Acknowledgments: I must thank ckl for taking the time to beta read this story.

Author's Note: 1 Earth year equals 0.74 Minbari cycles in this story. The Minbari words and phrases were found at the "JumpNow" web site in John Hightower's Minbari dictionary. The Italian came from badly remembered high school lessons.

Decorum, Vows and Honor

Marcus had just finished his shower when the barber arrived. He'd come out of his room wrapped in a bathrobe and towel only to see that Zack had left and that the Chief was still seated on the couch and reading a report on a data pad. He also saw that a portable barber's chair was not only set up in the living room but was also well manned by not just one, but two barbers. Marcus smirked at the sight. Apparently, Michael still didn't trust him to not run. All though, just how these two could stop him was the more interesting question. To the Ranger's further amusement, the older barber was as much the quintessential mafia stereotype barber as the tailor was the mafia stereotype for his profession. Marcus chuckled inwardly and began wondering if he had somehow fallen into bad mob vid. Oh, God help him if "whacking" ever came up in the conversation; he'd never be able to control the hysterical laughter!

As he was ushered into the chair by the stern, elderly and proudly Italian gentleman and his slightly younger assistant, Marcus had to continue to suppress the mad urge to laugh at the situation he found himself in. Forget about the bad mob vid; he had to be on a bad acid trip! Bloody hell! There was no way anybody would make a vid like this, nor was there a possibility that any of this could really be his life! Yeah, a bad acid trip, that's what this situation was! Any minute now he'd wake up in medlab and have Steven tell him that he'd been mickied, or ruffied, or just plain drugged out by one of his contacts. There was no way this Twilight Zone of a day was really happening!

There was no way he'd literally fallen head over heals for a man – and he'd never even had an inkling that he was bi, let alone gay before that moment - who'd literally almost beaten him to death a few short months ago after just one bloody date, but somehow he had. It wasn't any ordinary man either. Oh no, Marcus couldn't do anything by halves! The man in question was Neroon, former Satai of the Minbari and now new Shai Alyt of the Warrior Caste. He was also the most hated Minibari Warrior in Human space. He couldn't have accepted a marriage proposal from the Warrior that same night and then fallen into bed with him, yet he had. Or had it been the other way around? Well, he had done it no matter the order of events; he had the hickies to prove it!

The hysteria started welling up again as the rest of the day finally caught up with him. Marcus ruthlessly squelched it down. There was no way he could lose it in front of these strangers. The poor Ranger barely held it together as the waterfall of recent memories hit him.

After that dream-like night, Marcus had been found in said man's bed the next morning by his and Neroon's best friends, been forced to lie to the rest of his friends, not to mention superior officers, and concoct one hell of a cover-up of their "indiscretion" at the last minute due to the current war effort, politics, the extremely conservative Minbari society and the returning conservativeness to Human society. Oh, and of course, he couldn't forget that Minbari madman named Shakiri. He'd then been forced to go through the most detailed and humiliating Human/Minbari sex ed. lecture ever devised, after which he'd continued to lie to his superior officers and friends. This had been followed by an oh so lovely shopping trip where he'd almost been mobbed by the Zocalo crowd, lied some more and been lectured on dating safety by total stranger. He'd escaped that hell only to be forced to move from the only place he'd been able to call home since Arisia was destroyed and found out that a Mafia Princess and the most feared pike Master in the entire Minbari Federation were going to be his chaperones for the foreseeable future.

But the shocks just didn't stop there, oh no. They just kept coming and coming! He'd also been "adopted" by the Station Chief, who just happened to be the European Capo Crimini or "Boss of Bosses" in that same day. And if any of what he'd overheard Michael and Zack talking about while they thought he was showering was true, Zack was his North American counterpart; the so-called, "Syndicate Chairman". Marcus was in shock at that knowledge. The two men most responsible for the safety of Babylon 5 and the elimination of the criminal element on board were in actuality the ones who controlled it. Oh, Marcus had long suspected Michael of sharing more than just a last name with the most powerful crime family in Human space, but to know that he ran it, well, that was a different matter all together.

Zack, on the other hand, well, HIM he'd never even suspected. Now THAT had him rather upset with himself. What kind of operative was he when he could be taken in by that, "hey, don't look at me, I'm just an American city kid that wants to go home" attitude? And to miss someone of Zack's age in such a position! Marcus shuddered inwardly. He had a lot, and he meant A LOT of blood on his hands, but for Zack to make it to the top of the North American Syndicate or "Outfit", as they called themselves, at his age, well, Marcus was nauseous just thinking about it. Then there was the other little matter he was now suspecting to be true - and God and Valen, but he needed to wash out his brain at that thought! It was almost as bad as thinking about his birth parents and/or Will and Angela - and may God rest all their souls - in that way. Oh God, here came the nausea again! The barber pulled Marcus from his thoughts, not to mention the onset of a nervous breakdown, when he began to berate him over the state of his hair.

"Well, young man, I can see that hair care has not been a priority for you. Just look at those split ends! When was the last time you had this mane trimmed? Have you even heard of that magic elixir called conditioner? And please don't tell me you were ever masochistic enough to actually put that drain cleaner the Minbari use to bathe on your HAIR!" the old gent scolded.

The barber's assistant broke into the scolding to add his two cents as he put Marcus's hands in bowls of a warm concoction to soak. "If you think his hair is bad, you should take a look at his hands and nails! Good Lord, I've met miners with smaller calluses! Have you ever heard of combat gloves? When's the last time you did anything about your cuticles? And I know that you chew on your nails! Not just bite, but CHEW, Ranger Cole! Don't even dare try to deny it!" the younger barber practically yelled out in horror.

Marcus flushed in embarrassment and shot the Chief a pleading look. Michael just shook his head, chuckled and said, "You'll get no sympathy from me, kid. There is a fine line between being a busy man with no time for himself and a slob, and YOU have been skating it for quite a while. The Family has rules about decorum, deportment, your self-presentation and honor that you'll have to get used to." Michael smirked. "Besides, if you think Joseph and Vincenso are bad, then you'll be running in shear terror from my Aunt!"

Marcus groaned and was about to bow his head in defeat when the barber yanked it back into place, making him yelp at the unexpected pain. "Stay still, young man, or you will be going to your betrothal dinner looking like a newly shorn sheep!" he scolded again. "And I'm sure that just the type of impression you want to make on your fiancé and his entourage!" the barber scathingly added.

"And you don't know just how close you are," muttered Michael in a vicious tone that was barely above a whisper.

Marcus gasped and flushed again in embarrassment at that ancient double entandre as well as thinly veiled statement. He'd known the Chief would never let him live that morning down, he'd just known it! "Well, at least he won't lay into me with that lecture he promised with these two here," Marcus thought to himself, only to be sorely disappointed. Not only did the lecture come; it came from an unexpected and truly humiliating source! The barber shot Michael an inquiring look, got a nod from the Chief that made him tighten his already stern features and then smacked Marcus on the back of his head, making him yelp again.

"For shame! For shame, and you a promise keeper! Now, what were you doing out with that Warrior without a chaperone, eh? And just how far did you let him get?" the irate barber yelled and smacked Marcus's stinging scalp again for good measure and got another pained yelp from the Ranger in response.

"Joseph!" the younger of the two, who by default Marcus now knew was Vincenso, tried to butt in. "And why would immediately it be our Ranger's fault, hmm? I would think that brute he's engaged to would be just as much to blame if not more! Lord knows I've heard enough stories about what kind of letch he was during the War. The way I heard it, he went through most of their fleet as well as ours – the ones that lived through being a P.O.W. anyway - before the War was over. If you ask me, our Ranger's too good for him!" he finished with a decisive nod as he started on Marcus's manicure.

Joseph, the senior barber, just ignored his assistant and continued to verbally lay into the poor Ranger as he worked on his hair, tugging it viscously and making Marcus's eyes water in pain, when he wanted to make sure a point stuck. Marcus was flushed crimson in shame and embarrassment, whimpering in pain and choking on his own futile arguments and anger when he finally begged the chief for help with his eyes, truly unable to speak in his mortification. Oh God, but could his life get any more humiliating? And why was Michael letting a total stranger read him the riot act over last night and this morning? The poor Ranger was actually in tears of pain, humiliation and stifled anger by the time Michael waded back into the quagmire.

"Joseph, enough. I think Marcus has learned his lessen," Michael said as he set his data pad down. Then he turned his attention to Marcus, "Haven't you, kid?" he asked in a hard voice.

Marcus knew better than to try and defend himself at this point. He had no allies in this room, and if the Chief was this open in front of the barbers, then they were "his people", and would do what he wanted them to do, believe what he wanted them to believe. There was no way he'd be able to avoid whatever the rest of Michael's retribution was, but if he was very, very lucky maybe he could minimize it.

"Yes, sir," he said in a very contrite voice.

"Good. And for your information, Joseph isn't just my barber. He's blood family on my mother's side. Which makes him an Uncle of sorts to you now. He and Cousin Vincenso have literally had my life in their hands many times over and can be trusted with anything. If any situation goes Nova on you and you can't get a hold of me, contact one of them. Oh, and by the way, if you even THINK about letting Neroon sweet talk you into some "alone time" again, I'll let Joseph give you an up close and personal introduction to his vintage razor strop!" Michael finished with a growl.

Joseph chuckled at that statement as he continued to work. "Lord knows it kept me and my brothers and then you in line!" he said to Michael. "Nice to see that we have a new generation to "pass it on to"."

Marcus went white at the threat. Somehow, he was sure that this elderly looking gentleman could carry it out, too. The poor Ranger shuddered in memory. His biological father had used a belt on both him and Will more than once, and the memories were painful enough, thank you! Marcus did NOT want to find out just how well a razor strop would measure up to them. He really, really didn't need to relive the consequences of his misspent youth!

"I won't let Neroon talk me into anything that like that again. I give you my word," the poor Ranger finally managed to get out.

The extremely unhealthy and pasty look that Marcus was sporting made Michael take pity on him. The Chief nodded and said, "I believe you kid, and I know that this morning happened because Neroon was all gung ho about those insane rituals of theirs, not to mention that the cradle robbing bastard pulled one of the lowest and oldest stunts in the book by taking advantage of you in very vulnerable moment. That Casanova want-to-be went for the jugular right at the moment when the light bulb in regards to both your sexuality and emotional needs went off!"

Marcus blushed crimson and tried to stutter out a response but Michael cut him off. "It's all right, kid. I believed both you and pike boy when you said that nothing truly serious happened. The Chief sighed and shook his head. "But I'm not blind or a fool either, Marcus. You know Minbari society and their mores better than any other human on the Station. You knew that you could have said no outright, or asked Neroon to hold off on the ritual until it was a more appropriate time. I also know you let it happen because you really have felt emotionally isolated and alone on this barge; that this was probably the first time you actually felt truly connected to another being since the destruction of Arisia, – and that the bastard took advantage of that, too – and kid, part of that isolation was your own fault. Well, now that part is going to change, and so will the actual "being alone" part."

Micheal sighed before going on, "I'm sorry to say this, but you'll have bodyguards for your safety and aides for your work with the Rangers from now on. And before you start giving me a hard time, this is coming down from the chain of command. The Skipper himself asked for the bodyguards since having the Shai Alyt's new fiancé offed on his Station would put him in a rather nasty political bind and fast. As for the aides, Delenn asked for them since even she can see that the guards will have you standing out like a sore thumb. Besides, we both know that you'll need them because of me, too. AND they'll be a good deterrent to that spikey–headed jackass who calls himself a Warrior – that you had the bad taste to fall for – until your chaperones get here," the Chief finished with a smirk.

Marcus managed to ignore Michael's latest swipe at Neroon as he sighed and nodded in resignation. He'd been expecting this proclamation since he got the orders to move. The Ranger took a deep, steadying breath and then somehow found the courage to try and mend some of his tattered dignity.

"As expected. But please, Michael, can we stop with the recriminations over this morning's debacle? I'm an adult who by your own admission is an intelligent enough operative to survive both EFI and the Rangers; well, I've survived the Rangers so far. I know how important the courtship going off without a hitch is to the Army of Light, to the peace of the Federation, to the business interests of the Family and to the security of the EA. This isn't just a love match anymore. I know that, and I will do everything in my power to see that it is not side tracked again," he said with as much dignity and sincerity as he could muster after having all his current dirty linens aired so publicly.

Michael gave Marcus a hard look. "How much do you know?" he asked.

Marcus took a good look at the older man, swallowed hard and hoped he could bluff his way out of this. If the Chief suspected that he had kept information back from the Captain, he'd be up on some serious charges. On the other hand, if the Chief suspected that he'd eavesdropped, then there would be personal hell to pay. One did not get caught eavesdropping on two Mafia Dons and expect to live. But thankfully to the now high profile courtship, Michael couldn't "dispose" of him just yet. Therefore, he would be taught a very, very memorable and very, very PAINFUL lesson instead, and Marcus knew it.

Bleeding, buggering bloody hell! Oh yes, but the Ranger bloody well knew he was between the proverbial rock and hard place. Marcus easily fell into the crisis control thought processes that EFI had literally programmed into his mind. He very quickly compiled the scant rumors he had truly heard with what he had overheard from the Chief and Zack, analyzed the data as best he could, drew his theory and came up with a story. Marcus then sent a prayer to all the known deities, looked the older man directly in the eyes and lied through his teeth for the umpteenth time that day.

"Not much, I don't think. There are rumors on Minbar about Shakiri still holding on to the weapons his pet Death Walker had created. There are rumors on the Rim that the Shadows have servants within the Federation itself, servants that are being protected by the Wind Swords. There are rumors that certain EA business interests are taking a too strong an interest in Minbari politics and there are rumors that certain political factions in EarthDome are gearing up for another genocidal war aimed at humanity. None of my people have brought me any hard proof of anything though, nothing I could take to Entil'zha Delenn or the Captain. It's right bloody galling to have all of these nebulous rumors and suspicions and no proof."

Marcus huffed in real frustration as the chessboard of his mind began to populate itself. "And what's even worse is the knowledge that I can't discuss them with my superiors because they're such political Claymores. If the Shadows, or for that matter, any of our other oppositions' – and you can pick your favorite here – teeps even got an inkling that either of them had heard any of these rumors but had no proof. Me, I'm expendable, but them …" Marcus interrupted himself as a new piece was added to the chessboard. A White pawn had just been transformed into a Queen, and HE was that pawn.

Marcus wanted to slap himself, but didn't dare move for fear of Joseph's reprisal. Instead he groaned and cried out, "Ah bloody hell! Was expendable; I'm one of the fucking Claymores now too! God damn it, why didn't I see …" the Ranger growled and let his comment die off with a shake of his head that immediately earned him a curse and a slap.

Michael grimaced when Marcus was done speaking. He'd seen that same thing. Both Marcus and Michael were then silent for some time. Finally, after seeming to have some kind of decision, Michael spoke.

"Marcus, I'd wanted to keep your place in the Family ceremonial, to have you named as my son, but not my heir. It doesn't look like that can happen now. Do you know what that means?" he asked.

Marcus smiled sadly and nodded. "The War and the Shadows have both made for some strange bedfellows, Michael. It's amazing just how much can be overlooked when a race is fighting for survival. I wasn't stupid enough to inquire about any of the non-EFI, or EFI, for that matter, personnel that I worked with back then. But I wasn't naive, deaf or blind either. I'm damned sure I've worked with your associates in the past. I'm bloody well positive I'm working with some of them now as a Ranger. I, well, all the human Rangers really, just conveniently leave those bits out of our reports to Delenn. She may have been Satai during the War, but she still hasn't figured out just how dirty an affair war is."

Michael nodded. Everything Marcus had said was true, but that didn't mean he understood what it meant to be "made" into the Family. "O.K., you've had experience with us. But what do you know about the history of the "Old Families"?" he asked.

Marcus felt his stomach clench. Oh yes, he knew about them. He knew about them from EFI and from his long broken dreams of a real education.

He took a deep breath and said, "EFI taught me a great deal I never wanted to know, Michael. Besides, I was actually getting ready to go to university when the War happened. One of the classes that had been part of my prepatory work was "Class Structure, and the Effects of the Underclass on Modern Societal Evolution". It was either that one or "Space and its Effects on Modern Psychology" for my psych elective, and I hated the professor teaching "Space and Psych" so I took the former. It covered the history of, well to put it bluntly, organized crime and it's then current effects on human society. Some of the information was probably wrong and/or out of date even back then, but I think I understand what it will mean."

Michael nodded sadly. Marcus looked and sounded like so many of his generation to the Chief. They were all young men and women who'd been broken and scarred, who's dreams had been ripped from them by the horrors they had faced.

"Yeah, I think you do know," he said softly. Michael sighed and went on, "There's just one thing, Marcus, that's probably different about the Family than what you were taught in school or heard about in the service. We hold to the old ways, the old traditions in many things. For you they would definitely be in play. You're not one of the blood and will be named as heir to the highest seat in the Family. That will cost you. There will be a test of your loyalty, a test of your honor. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Marcus paled as he nodded his head. He finally answered in a low voice, "Yes. Blood spilled and The Five Vows."