The sounds of celebration, of music and voices raised in laughter and snatches of song, echoed along the stone corridors. It could be heard even in the docking bay, reverberating around the cavernous space as Delenn stood and watched him leave. In here it sounded like a party of ghosts, something from a life left far behind. She was becoming overly-fanciful, she chided herself. If he did not return it would be left to her to tell them all the truth. It was, she knew, pure selfishness to hope that the explanation would not be necessary, not ever.

Romance had not been something she had ever seriously considered. Yes, there had been opportunities. And not only from her own people - were she so inclined, such liasions were not specifically forbidden. Minbari who held to the ancient ways condemned such pairings but they were not unheard of. Amongst the Rangers it was almost common, even if rarely openly acknowledged. And in these dark times, when societies mingled more freely than before, there were many who took mates from other races. But she had never taken advantage of any of those opportunities, had never taken a mate from any race. She had always been too devoted to service of her people as an acolyte, as Satai, as Anla'Shok Na, to do little more than occasionally wonder what her life might be like were she not … zha'len. Alone. Transitory thoughts, quickly dismissed. But now the possibility of another existence had been made very real. A life that might have been.

She stood long after he had gone, long after the sensors stopped showing his craft on the scanners. A few days. A matter of hours, that was all. So short an acquaintance. But she was not the same now, she knew that; she was not the same as she had been before she arrived. She would never be quite the same again.

The final image Sheridan had of Degeba 3 was her proud figure standing against the rock. Like a beautiful and unbreakable standing stone. Those thoughts were pointless.

Everything he had valued, that he had loved, he had lost. His own life counted for nothing. But despair did not detract from his sense of purpose.

He had promised he would never leave her and yet here he was. She had said she would catch him if he should fall but this time she would not be there. This time he might have to let go of everything. All souls would be gathered together: it was her belief and he wanted to share it. He would wait for her.

Light, brighter than everything else around him, bright enough to blot out the sky and for a moment he thought that he had reached that place, the one where there was no light, no shadow, no pain...

But this was too familiar. This was that same paralysis that had brought him here and his Starfury was shuddering around him and there was noise. A thousand voices. And then one and it called his name. He was spinning through darkness, but the voice was still calling him. He was falling. Falling and there was no end.

'John. John, can you hear me?'

He knew that voice. Her voice, calling him home.

When Sheridan's eyes flicked open, blinking painfully against the light, he knew that there was someone leaning over him. The face was blurred. She said his name again and he smiled. It was her voice. And it was that scent – tropical flowers after the rains. Her hair was tickling his face. Sheridan reached out to her, his hand not quite moving in the direction he wanted. She caught hold of it, imprisoned it between hers, turned her mouth into his palm and he felt her lips against his skin.

'I thought I had lost you.' Her words were indistinct, muffled. 'Again.'

'I know.' His mouth felt thick, words cracking as he tried to speak. 'I seem to be making a habit out of it. I'm sorry.'

'You should be.'

He struggled to focus and he found her eyes. Her clear, sparkling eyes, bright as polished steel. If he could never see anything else clearly again, only this, it was fine by him.

Edges hardened, details sharpened. White walls, the smell of antiseptic, the BabCom insignia on the monitor mounted on the wall. They all registered in Sheridan's mind only vaguely. He studied Delenn. Her face was pale, drawn; the skin beneath her eyes was almost black. It added a strange charm to her face and spoke of too many sleepless nights.

'You've been through hell, my love, I know that. I know it's my fault. It won't happen again.'

'Do not say that. You know that is a promise you cannot keep. But we do not have enough time to be able to waste it.' The words were strained and he pulled her to him, her breath warm against his neck. When he put his arms around her he could feel her shaking. It was beyond her control and Delenn was not someone who lost control easily. He stroked her back, murmuring into her ear things that didn't make much sense even to him but that seemed to help. He could feel the tension easing, her body softening against his. She moved. One hand against the side of his face, her lips brushing his other cheek.

'Ambassador, I think- Oh.'

Delenn straightened; his body objected to the sudden loss of her warmth. She stood beside his bed and Sheridan forced himself to sit up. Dr Lillian Hobbs was a serious-eyed young woman. Competent, brilliant even, and in Franklin's absence they relied on her greatly. But she had never quite become part of that circle at the heart of the station. She regarded Delenn with a combination of sympathy and mute apology then turned her attention to her patient. All brisk professionalism.

'You were very lucky, Captain.' Her eyes flicked between him and her scanner. 'Apparently your Starfury is a total write-off but there are only minor injuries. Little more than cuts and bruises and mild concussion. I'll be keeping you in for a little while longer just to make sure that that doesn't develop into something more serious.'

Sheridan glared at her mutinously. 'Dr Hobbs-'

'John.' Delenn's hand lightly on his arm. 'Please.'

He sank back. 'Fine.' The ability of women to conspire and unite, silently and in a matter of seconds, was one thing that never ceased to astonish him.

'Well.' The scanner snapped shut. 'I'll, uh- I'll be back a bit later.'

The doctor left them, closing the door discreetly behind her.

Delenn's hand still rested on his arm; he covered it with his. 'Your fingers are cold.'

'I am all right.'

He brought them to his lips. The first time he had done that she had not fully understood the significance of that act. Now she felt pressure prickling behind her eyes. She ran her free hand through his hair, twisting it around her fingers.

'MedLab is not the place I would have chosen for a reunion,' he informed her solemnly. Delenn laughed - the desired effect. He pulled her to sit, the bed dipping under her weight. 'How's Susan?'

'She is fine. And very relieved that you are all right.' Delenn paused. 'Although, Zack has also informed me that she has been in need of sedation and is possibly missing great handfuls of hair.'

Sheridan grimaced. 'In that case do you think that there's any chance we can sell her on as a Centauri slave girl before she makes her way here?'

She was caught between amusement and reproach. Her hands were warmer, both trapped between his. 'No, not even a slight one.'

'I was afraid of that.'

The final report from Sheridan drew muted responses from the Command staff. It was an image of a world that seemed all too possible - one they had escaped very narrowly. If it had not been for the very real memories and the knowledge that the universe was filled with mysteries that he could never hope to fathom, Sheridan would have been tempted to dismiss it as hallucinations brought on by one too many blows to the head. Denying the reality may have been a more comforting prospect but Sheridan had never been a particularly skilful liar, even to himself.

It would have been easier to forget that other-world Delenn and the restless emotions she had evoked. Easier, yes, but not possible. At first he had thought of her with gratitude and now he thought of her with guilt.

Even after Sheridan had managed to escape Dr Hobbs' efficient clutches and life on board the station returned to normal, it had still been difficult to find time to be with Delenn. Time alone with her, at least, for they were, as they always were, surrounded. It was a concerted effort on both their parts before they were able to find time away from the Council, the League, Ivanova's determined shepherding and Lennier's watchful, disturbingly calm eyes.

A simple dinner, in his quarters, just the two of them and he could finally tell her. All of it. All the things he had left out, all the things he could tell no one else.

Delenn had listened in silence and he had not tried to analyse the emotions that he had seen passing over her face.

'I'm glad that she was there.' Sheridan watched her. Delenn smiled, reached across to him, fingers light against his cheek.

'Glad?'

'Yes.' In the half-light her eyes were the colour of smoke. 'We are bonded, you and I. Our souls are one. That cannot change in any universe: she is part of me and I of her. And so she is part of you. Had you not confided in her, I would have been offended.'

Laughter broke from his lips. Incredulous, almost uncontrollable. 'You- You're astonishing, you know that?' He linked his fingers through hers. 'I missed you. All of the time, every second, I missed you so much.'

'I know.'

After he had returned from Z'ha'dum, after he had learnt - from Susan or Stephen, she was sure - of her grief for him, he had extracted from her a promise that she would never attempt such a thing again. Not now. Not in twenty years from now. The promise had been easy enough to make, but keeping it... Keeping it was harder, she had discovered. But she would have done it. She would not have fasted; she would not have maintained that ceaseless meditation. Because there were other ways her soul could follow his. Other ways to die. He had forgotten to make her promise that.

Her eyes were haunted, her face showing something he couldn't name. 'Delenn.'

He wasn't sure if he moved to her or she moved to him but somehow she was in his arms. He held her, his hands tangling in her hair. One thumb grazed the ridges at her temple; she murmured something. A surprisingly husky sound, throaty. Her mouth sought his and he gave into her. Her lips were soft, warm, demanding.

His body under hers was all hard planes but it yielded to her, his arms drawing her in. It was unforgiving embrace, all the air squeezed from her body. But she would breath him instead, feel him in every part of her. The sudden heat that flooded her made her skin burn.

Delenn pressed herself against him, feeling the smooth play of muscle through the fine cotton of his shirt. She remembered the feel of his hands on her body, his touch, how it was to touch him and she needed it again. And more than that. A simple craving, more important than air.

'John.' No rituals, no speeches. There was an edge to her voice. 'Now. I need you now.'

If anyone so much as considered disturbing them now, he thought, he'd find a PPG and shoot them between the eyes. He pulled her to him.

She tasted like bitter chocolate - sweet and smoky. Her skin was warm, impossibly smooth when he pushed the silk away from her shoulders. His lips followed the line of her jaw, found the soft hollow behind her ear. Her hair played against his face. His fingers traced the ridges of her collarbones, fetishised the plane of skin above the swell of her breasts. His movements were a slow exploration, so close to the areas that demanded his caress but never quite reaching them. A deliberate torment. His thumbs brushed the soft undersides of her breasts; when he finally covered them, teasing her flesh with his fingers he won a sigh of approval.

The air in his quarters was cool, its bite a contrast to the hands roaming her body. Her fingers felt clumsy; she tried to stop them from shaking as she worked at his shirt-buttons. It was hopeless. She abandoned the effort, captured his head between her hands, turning her face to his so she could claim his mouth again. His arm around her waist was strong and steady. One hand running the length of her back, barely in contact and the breath caught in the back of her throat. She arched against him, gasping for air.

There was a sheen of moisture on her skin, one bead trickling between her breasts. He followed its path, licking it from her skin. Salty. She was all sleek muscle and soft curves, moulding herself against him. His mouth found her nipple, it tautened as he grazed it with his lips, his teeth. Her cry was breathy, wordless.

She moved over him, settling closer, still not close enough; she could feel his need for her pressing insistently between her legs and there were still too many barriers between them. She cradled his head against her chest, murmured his name as his kisses burned her, branded her. His laughter was soft when she tugged impatiently at his shirt. He lifted his arms, letting her pull it up, over his head. She ran her hands slowly back down his arms, across his shoulders. There were scars on his body. That had shocked her the first time. The marks of a soldier. A jagged line ran below his collarbone: she traced it with her fingers, lowered her head to follow the same line with her tongue and felt his chest vibrating. She smiled against his skin.

'We should move. Now.'

She nodded. He touched her face lightly, ran his thumb across her lips. She opened her mouth, sucking on it, her teeth sinking into the flesh at its base.

He moved quickly, lifting her; he stumbled slightly and she wrapped herself around him.

When she was sprawled across his bed he watched her. She was exquisite. Delenn. She was the whole universe to him and she was his. She freed herself from the final confines of her clothes; her body was slender and pale. And waiting. She knelt as he approached her, her hands moving to his waistband. Her hands were strong. More so than he had expected. They looked so delicate, felt breakable in his. But she was far from fragile. He delighted in the feel of her skin under his hands. Long, steady strokes down her back, following the planes and hollows, the same path back, strands of her hair catching against rough patches of skin on his fingers.

There was an absorbed intensity in the way she looked at him, the way she worked at removing what were left of his clothes that made his heart pound. It was like she was trying to memorise him by heart. One hand under her chin, tilting her head back until her eyes met his.

'Not of if the whole universe stood between us, remember?'

Her eyes were huge, sparkling, flaring bright and hard as diamonds. 'I remember. My love.'

She moved away from him, settling back; she had dropped his clothes to the floor and he knelt between her legs, still watching her.

'John.'

His head tilted, his smile playful and maddening. 'Yes?'

Her tongue between her lips, moistening them. 'I will not beg.'

His movements were slow. She felt his heat before she felt his skin against hers. When he covered her, her slender thighs moved to hold his body to hers. It was torture: every touch, every moment when he wasn't with her, in her. Her back curved, an attempt to pull him closer. His eyes changed with every mood: now they were smoky green flecked with gold. Locked on hers. They could see into her soul.

'Delenn.'

He made her name sound like something sacred, something profane. He was shaking. She could feel him shaking. She cried out when his fingers slipped inside her. A relentless rhythm deep within her; she rocked against the heel of his hand.

Desire in her eyes. It radiated off her. Slick heat tightened around his fingers. She was restless beneath him, desperate for release. He withdrew from her, heard her moan of protest.

Every part of her was burning. Her skin was damp, fiery. It had gone beyond a simple need, beyond longing. Primal. When he entered her he felt punishingly hard and it brought only momentary relief.

He rotated his hips against hers, slow, shallow, finding the rhythm of her body; she braced herself against him. Her lips found the juncture of his neck and shoulder, tasting his skin, nipping it.

He was beautiful, she thought incoherently: the hard muscle, the skin both smooth and damaged, was all beautiful. And it belonged to her, all of it, all of him. His murmured words, close to her ear, were like hearing his thoughts, hearing his love for her even as she felt it. She felt his love and she wanted more of it, demanded it and he plunged deeper. Her arms tightened around him, her hips rocking higher, harder.

Rapture. Feeling him inside her, over her, surrounding her. Tenderness and roughness in equal measure. Every nerve-ending blazed. A loss of control. She could fall. She was falling. But he would be there to catch her. Her desire broke like a wave on the rocks.

He felt her contract around him, heard his name torn from her lips. A hoarse, wild sound. Violent spasms that drew him into her. Release. It flooded through him, into her, and she arched under him, her body wrapped around his, melting into him.

Her face was serene. The male slept, the female watched. But he watched her sleep. Its power lay in its simple intimacy. It was frightening to allow yourself to be so vulnerable with another person: to allow them to see the things that you might not want to admit, even to yourself. The true face. Hers was still serene. Still controlled.

'What are you doing?'

'Watching you pretend to sleep.'

Delenn opened one eye, laughed at the mock-reproach on his face. 'I was not pretending. I was ... dozing.'

'Dozing?'

'Dozing.'

'I'm beginning to regret giving you that dictionary.'

She laughed, moving closer until her head was cushioned in the hollow of his shoulder. The thought of ever moving from this precise spot seemed impossible. He was tracing patterns along her spine. 'I wonder what happened to him.'

'What? Who?'

'The other you. You took his place, but he did not take yours. I wonder where he went. If he got back to where he belonged.'

It was the scent of incense that clung to her hair, he decided. 'I'm sure he has. And when he gets back he'll find her and they'll both be fine.'

Her head raised; she studied his face. 'You are certain of that?'

'Of course. That's how it is meant to be, isn't it? The thing I can't figure out was how you came to be there.'

'I do not understand.'

Sheridan sighed. 'You. There was no Valen in that universe. You're descended from Valen. How were you there?'

Delenn laughed and shook her head. 'You Humans. You walk the stars like giants and yet you do not understand them. You think of the universe as a series of decisions … a tree where each yes or no creates a new reality. Minbari believe that the universe is like a river. It flows; it has ripples and eddies and its course may be altered temporarily but it always finds a way to return to its proper path.'

'Now I don't understand.'

'Jeffrey Sinclair existed, did he not? If he did, then Valen existed.'

'But I checked the databases.'

Delenn smiled, her head resting against him again. 'He existed. Perhaps he did not exist yet, but he indeed existed there. Do Humans not have a saying about chickens and eggs? Which came first? Nothing is infinite - everything has a beginning and an end.'

It was Sheridan's turn to laugh. 'Perhaps. Except for us.' His fingers twined through her hair, twisting into the roots, moving to caress the ridges at the back of her head. She murmured something.

'What does that mean?'

Her eyes found his again. 'Beloved.'

She was beautiful and she was everything. And no matter how long this peace lasted – a lifetime, or only an hour – this moment would be with him always. He drew her face to his.

'Beloved.'

Fin