The eyes that met hers when she woke were the wrong color. Bright with affection, but light brown. Delenn felt a moment's sleepy confusion. Shouldn't they be hazel…?

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Mayan said from beside her. "Time to get up. In six more hours, you will be a bride."

ooOoo

She drank the tea Mayan brewed for her and ate the ceremonial piece of redfruit, all in a happy daze. Her mother had come to share the morning meal and meditate with them, and now she was brushing out Delenn's hair. "I think I am enjoying this as much as you are," Chenann said with a smile. "I could envy humans their hair—it is so soft. So beautiful."

She laughed at that. "Ask Susan what happens if it is not regularly washed and brushed. I had such trouble with it after I first emerged from the Chrysalis; I had no idea washing it was even necessary, let alone how to accomplish such a thing. Within days, it turned dry as winter grass and got tangled full of knots. I was frantic until Susan rescued me."

"I never thought—" Chenann set down the brush and took Delenn's hands. "I never thought I would be with you on this day. Taking a mother's place before your wedding. I—" She gave a small laugh; her eyes were very bright. "There are no words…"

Delenn leaned forward so their foreheads touched. Tenderness washed over her, and she felt Chenann's loving presence in her mind. A mental caress that brought up a sense-memory: the scent of her mother's skin, the delicate perfume Chenann had always worn. She had not consciously recalled it until this moment, had not realized how much she missed it. She shaped her thought into words—I love you—and reveled in her mother's answering smile.

ooOoo

Susan and Lyta had fixed her hair and made up her face while Mayan and Chenann helped her dress. Then Mayan left, to take up her role as co-officiant of the ceremony. They had picked up Lennier on the way, looking solemn in his finery. Now, as they neared the observation deck, Delenn felt as if she were floating. Her stomach fluttered, and the heat in her cheeks told her she was flushed with excitement. Just one more corridor to walk down, and then she would see him. John Sheridan… no longer only her ally, her friend, her lover, but her life-mate. Mine, for as long as we have. Even the knowledge of their limited time could not dampen her joy. Not on this day of all days.

They turned the corner. Delenn was scarcely aware of the Rangers lining each side of the hallway, of David and Garibaldi flanking John at the far end by the open door to the observation deck. She had eyes only for John, resplendent in black and silver-gray, his gaze locked with hers and a loving smile on his face.

Soft chanting rose around her as she closed the distance between them—joyous and ethereal, harmonies sung on Minbar even before Valen's time. She knew the blessing song came from the gathered Rangers, heard Chenann and Lennier add their voices to the choir, and yet the music seemed to rise from everywhere. She reached John and they clasped hands. His fingers were warm, his grip strong. Together, they walked onto the observation deck, where Mayan and Brother Theo awaited them.

The ceremony itself passed in a series of moments, like bright jewels on a string. Mayan's voice, sweet and high, chanting the first words of the Rite of Joining. Brother Theo reciting the Catholic marriage liturgy, his hand raised over them in blessing. Herself and John, trading lines of the St. Francis prayer he had shown her: "Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is sadness, joy; where there is despair, hope; and where there is darkness, light…". Theo and Mayan, reciting alternate stanzas of Korenn's famous poem on love and union. David Sheridan, passing two plain gold bands to Garibaldi, who fumbled slightly from nervousness as he gave them in turn to Brother Theo. John slipping one ring onto her finger… with this ring, I thee wed… Herself doing the same for him, saying the same words. Two circles of gold, side by side, bright with promise.

Mayan again, asking her the ritual question—What do you bring to the life you now begin?

A single note from a handbell gave her the opening pitch. She sang the response Mayan had written with her whole heart; her voice rang through the chamber, golden-bright and clear. "Faith and dreams, forever ours/Joy for days of light/Love and laughter, hand in hand/Hope for the darkest night/All these I bring, beloved, for the journey of our days/The neverending journey of our days."

Then John's voice, each rich silky note spiraling outward toward the stars. "Courage and an open heart/Are yours, forever true/The strength of soul you see in me/The trust I place in you/All these I bring, beloved, for the journey of our days/The neverending journey of our days."

Mayan joined their hands. John's palms felt smooth against hers; their rings gleamed in the light of the ritual candle Mayan had lit. Three more hands joined their clasped ones in Delenn's field of vision: Lennier and Susan and Lyta, he in blue and the women in green, each twining a silk ribbon around her own and John's crossed wrists. Green for love, gold for life, blue for faith. Mayan passed the candle around their hands in a circle: once, twice, three times. "As you have said, so will it be," she chanted. "You are forever joined."

Lennier, his face solemn, took up a small ritual dagger and sliced neatly through the center of the braided ribbons. Susan and Lyta knotted off each piece and handed them to Mayan, who passed the candle over them. Delenn lifted her gaze to John's as Brother Theo spoke the final words of the blended rite: "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

A slow smile spread over John's face. Their lips met, a light brushing that deepened as emotion overtook them. The taste of him made her breathless, dizzy; she never wanted the kiss to end. She cupped his face in her hands as they came up for air, and dimly realized that the soft pattering sound she heard was everyone in the room applauding.

"I love you," John murmured in her ear. She saw tears in his shining eyes; one spilled over, and she gently brushed it away. Her heart was too full to speak, but she knew he had read her love in her face. They turned, arms around each other, and slowly left the observation deck.

The Rangers in the corridor had one last surprise for them—an arch of denn'boks, like a temple roof over their heads, a gesture richly symbolic of honor and blessing. Delenn held tight to her husband's arm as they passed down the hallway, as if the solid feel of him could anchor her. She leaned toward him and whispered, "I am so happy, I think my heart will burst with it."

"You're not allowed to have a heart attack before the reception," he answered. "Or the wedding night. Especially the wedding night."

She couldn't answer in words, but pressed closer to him as they walked on amid a barrage of rice.

ooOoo

Someone had borrowed a piano, and a trio of human Rangers—Marcus and two others—were doing a bang-up job as the musical entertainment. Marcus held a violin, currently across his lap as he watched the pianist and a tall redheaded woman with a saxophone play As Time Goes By.

"Here's looking at you, kid," Sheridan said to Delenn as they moved around the dance floor.

She laughed. "I do not look remotely like Ilsa Lund. And you are a great deal handsomer than Monsieur Rick."

"True. Humphrey Bogart never was much of a looker. I knew you'd like Casablanca, though. That's why I chose it for our first vid date."

"I remember." She pressed closer to him as the song continued.

He was humming by the second verse, and sang along with the third: "'It's still the same old story/The fight for love and glory/A case of do or die…'"

She joined in for the final two lines. "'The world will always welcome lovers/As time… goes…by.'"

"You sounded beautiful," he said softly. "Just now… and during the wedding."

"You did also." She moved her hand from his shoulder to caress his cheek. "I was inspired to do my best."

He turned his face to kiss her palm. She gave a happy sigh, and they danced on.

ooOoo

"Nice party," Lyta said as she nibbled on a triangle of cheese and olive-stuffed phyllo dough from the long buffet table at one end of the cafeteria. The Rangers had commandeered the place for the reception, with the enthusiastic aid of the station's kitchen staff. "I see they've segregated the champagne from the sparkling fruit juice."

Susan nodded. "With this many Minbari around, all Ranger-trained in combat, the last thing you want is anyone getting their drinks confused." She sipped her own glass of bubbly and looked over the edibles. "Somebody did the deli tray right. Real bread, full-size. I've never understood the micro-sandwich. What's the point?" She put down her champagne and assembled a roast beef on dark rye. "Mustard, mustard… ah. Good. The kind that tastes like something."

Garibaldi drifted over as she finished making the sandwich. She turned to him. "Roast beef, tomato and onion with spicy mustard. Want half?"

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" His tone suggested he was only half-joking.

"Yeah." She sliced the sandwich down the middle. "Delenn told us why you've been such a bastard lately." She held out the plate. "After that ISN interview, I should have known something was wrong. Peace offering?"

After a moment, he took a sandwich half. "You know, you're not the first one to say that to me."

"And won't be the last, either." She raised her champagne flute. "To friends. May we do a better job of not screwing up for each other."

"Amen," he said, and tapped his sandwich against the side of her glass.

ooOoo

Delenn tilted her head as the music changed. "I haven't heard this in a long time. An Chastighe Suoras… The Mountains of Home. It sounds surprisingly good on that strange brass instrument Ranger Halvorson is playing—"

"Alto saxophone." Sheridan smiled down at her. "Another example of how well human and Minbari things can blend."

"I look forward to seeing exactly how well," she said, low and seductive.

His answer was husky. "So do I. Any time you like."

ooOoo

Garibaldi bit into the sandwich. "Hey, this is good."

"Of course it is," Susan said. "I'm Jewish. I know food." The Ranger band had struck up a new tune; Susan washed down a chunk of sandwich as she listened. "I don't know this one. Minbari, you think?"

"They're pretty good," Garibaldi said. "I didn't know Marcus could play."

"Me either." He was playing with his eyes shut, she realized, as blissful as if the music had carried him to his own private piece of heaven.

Lyta plucked a gorgeously frosted cupcake from the top of a stacked platter. "Think he takes requests?"

"I don't know." Something about watching Marcus play made her feel peaceful, more so than she remembered feeling for a long time. Certainly more than she remembered feeling around Marcus Cole, ever.

Lyta nudged her. "Ask him."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

She drew breath to answer, and realized she didn't have one. Silent, she sipped her drink and watched Marcus's fingers dance across the violin strings.

"I need some champagne," Lyta said.

Garibaldi cleared his throat. "I could use a little cider."

They moved off. Susan kept her eyes on Marcus and his violin.

"Why not," she murmured, and drained her glass.

ooOoo

"I know this song," Chenann said to David Sheridan. They stood off to one side, each with a small plateful of fruit and cake, and watched their children dance. "It tells of the mountains around Tuzanor. The city sits in the middle of them, like a jewel in the palm of a giant's hand. The Mir clan has lived in those mountains since time beyond memory."

"They're Delenn's family?"

Chenann nodded. "Through her father. Normally, a child is raised in her mother's clan until she is old enough for fostering, or of age to choose which clan she will give primary kinship to. Our situation is… irregular."

"You're here now, though." David's smile was as gentle and warm as his son's. "In the end, that matters more than anything."

ooOoo

"One thing I don't understand," Sheridan said as the music ended. Amid light applause for the musicians, he and Delenn walked off the dance floor toward the flower-strewn buffet table, her arm tucked through his. He liked the feel of it there, liked even more the warmth of her close beside him. "I'm not a telepath. You're not a telepath—or at least, not much of one. Yet you felt that… that squid thing, and I saw your hands when I pulled it off me. I thought I was hallucinating—but the more I remember it, the more I think I wasn't. You were there. And Chenann—I saw her. Not just the fire she conjured up, everybody in the room saw that, but the whole golden-light thing. I heard her tell that creature to back off." He loaded a plate with strawberries, grapes and nek'har. "And before that, in the Zen garden—I actually felt what she was feeling a couple of times. Shouldn't that be impossible?"

She took a strawberry and turned it in her fingers. "Normally, yes. But…" She nibbled at the fruit and swallowed before speaking again. "I have been thinking about this, too. I saw what happened to you in Hanrahan's, John. As if the memory were imprinted in my mind. And there was a sense of your presence, leading me there…" She paused, strawberry half-eaten, eyes fixed on a distant point. "You should not have been able to do that—leave an impression for my mind to pick up. And I should not have been able to pick it up, anyway." Her gaze met his. "But we are bound, you and I. Soul mates. I think we have been together many lifetimes before, and we simply do not remember. Not consciously. But deep within… the bond never fades. Only strengthens."

"And Chenann?"

She set the green strawberry-top back on the plate. "When I was very young, I often felt her in my mind. Her presence, her emotions. Words I knew, sometimes, or pictures, or even snatches of music that told me what she was thinking. I did not know then that this was anything unusual. Not until she had to go—and then they tried to tell me, she and my father, but I didn't understand very much. Afterward, I sometimes tried to reach out to her—usually before sleep, or in meditation—but I never managed it." Her wistful look made his heart ache. "After awhile, I stopped trying. I realized she must have barriered herself against such contact—it would be too painful for us both. But… I think that bond, too, has never faded. Only gone dormant. Until the day you were taken, when it came to life again." She picked up a nek'har and held it as if weighing it along with her next words. "I don't know… but perhaps I created the link between you somehow."

He plucked a grape off its stem. "That ought to be a weird idea for me. But it's not. In fact, it makes an oddball kind of sense." He glanced across the room, and saw Chenann sitting with David in a pair of cushioned chairs. He was clearly telling her some sort of story; her attention was riveted on him, and she was smiling. Sheridan grinned. "Well, look at that. They seem to be getting on like a house on fire."

Delenn looked alarmed. "A house on fire is a good thing?"

He laughed and popped the grape in his mouth. "Figure—"

"—Of speech," she finished. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled up at him. She was so beautiful, in her shimmering gold wedding gown, that the sight of her stole his breath. "I know—I have the damnedest gaps in my vocabulary."

"You know me too well."

She stretched up to whisper in his ear. "How well?"

His heart thudded against his sternum. "How about we go find out?"

"I would like that." She stroked him behind the ear, in a spot that made him shiver. "After one last dance."

ooOoo

"So—do you take requests?" Susan said.

Marcus looked surprised, then grinned. "Never have before—but for you, I'd be delighted. What did you have in mind?"

Oh, great. Now I have to come up with something. She still couldn't quite believe she was doing this… but she was Susan Ivanova, and she always finished what she started. She blurted out the first title that came to mind, an old wedding song. "Chusn Kalleh Mazl Tov?"

His face fell. "Sorry. Don't know that one. Know loads of folk tunes from the British Isles, though. Some Minbari ones I picked up. Twentieth-century music from North America—thirties and forties, mostly. A few show tunes…"

She thought it over. "Something slow and sweet. Surprise me."

"All right." He looked pensive, then brightened. "I've got it. Feel free to sing along."

The intro was half-familiar; when she placed it, she felt herself smiling. As the pianist and the sax player came in on the second line, Susan gave in to the mad impulse that swept over her and joined in herself, in a warm, smoky alto:"'…Can you tell me where my love can be/Is there a meadow in the mist/Where someone's waiting to be kissed…'"

ooOoo

"Skylark," Sheridan said, face lighting up as he recognized the tune. He caught Delenn's eye. "The first song I taught you to dance to."

"I enjoyed that night," she said softly.

Mayan spoke from nearby, a fresh glass of cider in one hand. "I know this, I think." She glanced at Delenn. "You and Susan were singing it the other night, on our way back from The Eclipse."

Sheridan looked surprised, then amused. "You were singing in the corridors? At night?"

She felt herself coloring. "We had a… bachelorette party."

"There was that other song from Earth you sang, too," Mayan went on. "A very pretty one. Something about going over the rainbow…"

His grin widened. "You were singing show tunes in the corridors at night?"

"I was drunk." She waited a beat, just to watch the shock cross his face. "On chocolate. Very dark chocolate. From someplace called Belgium."

"Three and a half bars," Mayan added. "It was most delicious."

"Good lord. I had no idea chocolate did that to Minbari."

"Neither did I. Mayan figured it out." Her hand closed over his where it held the half-eaten plate of fruit. "I do not think I will do that again. But it had been a very difficult day."

"No kidding." He set the plate down and took her hands. "One more verse. May I have this… last dance?"

"You may." Her answering smile made him think of starlight. And other things. Together, they moved out onto the dance floor.

ooOoo

…Sad as a gypsy serenading the moon. Lennier didn't know what a gypsy was, but sad certainly described him just now. He felt as if some precious thing had gone from him, without his having known what it was until the moment just after the moment of loss.

What was the matter with him? He stared into his sparkling cider, as if its golden depths could answer his question. He should be happy. Sheridan was his friend, and Delenn…

Delenn. His heart contracted so hard, for a moment he feared he was having some kind of seizure. He forced himself to breathe, and the tight feeling in his chest receded. She had honored him beyond measure, giving him such an important role in the joining ritual. He should be glad of it, and glad for her. Glad for both of them, who loved each other so dearly and had suffered so much before they could finally come together. And yet all he felt was a terrible sorrow, and a confusing sense of having been cheated of something.

He gulped cider, and briefly wished it were the champagne he saw several humans drinking. It would feel good to have that go to his head; to get angry, really angry, to punch a hole in something or take it apart with his bare hands—

He set down the glass with controlled force, shocked and repelled by his own thoughts. He couldn't stay here, watching Delenn dance in Sheridan's arms. Watching their happiness, when he wanted to hold her like that, he wanted to be the one who brought that starry-eyed joy to her face…

He glanced around the room. No one was looking his way. He turned and fled out the nearest exit toward the sanctuary of his quarters. He would meditate there, in private, until he regained some control.

ooOoo

So sudden and sharp was the flare of anguish, Chenann nearly dropped her glass. A hand on hers, helping to keep the cider in her grip, steadied her. David Sheridan was looking at her, concern on his face. "Nearly had a spill there. Are you all right?"

Where had that pain come from? On instinct, her eyes sought Delenn. But all was well. Her daughter was dancing with Sheridan, the two of them so close to each other that they seemed like one body. She shut her mind to that very private pathway of thought and managed a smile for David. "I am well, thank you. A momentary turn. Perhaps I am not as fully recovered as I believed."

"John tells me you saved his life," he said. "I owe you a debt. A huge one."

She shook her head. "We saved each other, your son and I. I would not be here now, but for him. So if there is any debt, I would say it has been well paid."

ooOoo

Susan's voice rang through the room, drawing out Skylark's final three notes in a rich crescendo. The saxophone and Marcus' violin lasted a heartbeat longer. As the last note died away, the room broke into applause… and Sheridan took the chance to quietly draw Delenn off the dance floor. They slipped out a side exit, laughing like children as they half-ran through the corridors to Sheridan's quarters. When they reached the door, he stopped. "Come a little closer."

Her eyes widened. "You have to ask me?"

"I need you closer to manage this," he said with a chuckle.

"Manage what?"

"This." He punched in the lock code, then swept her up in his arms as the door swung open.

She sputtered in surprise. "John, what—?"

"Ancient human custom." She was solid and warm in his arms, as if she had always belonged there. His steps felt lighter than air as he carried her over the threshold.

She was laughing now, a sound more beautiful to him than an angel choir. "Put me down. This is most undignified."

He did as she asked… slowly, drawing the length of her body against his own. He heard her breath catch, saw the sudden rush of desire in her eyes. "Is that what you want?" he murmured, raising a hand to stroke her cheekbone. "To be dignified?"

"Not… at the moment." Her breath came faster as he ran his fingers through her hair, then around the delicate curve of her ear. He felt her own hands moving up his back, the heat of her palms against the nape of his neck. Their lips met, and he felt as if he could lose himself forever in that one sweet, passionate kiss.

His own breathing was ragged when they broke apart. "I love you," he said.

Delicate fingers traced his lips. Her eyes were the deep green he remembered from the Shan'Fal. "Show me how much."

ooOoo

"I'd no idea you sang," Marcus said, cradling his violin in the crook of one arm.

Susan smiled. "I'm full of surprises."

He gave her a flirtatious look. "I like that in a woman."

Weddings must make her sappy, she thought. Instead of frosting him with a glare, she actually kept smiling. "Smooth, Marcus. Very smooth."

"I've been practicing in front of my mirror."

She laughed at that. "You don't quit, do you?"

"Not often, no. I find persistence a virtue."

The wedding reception was winding down. Susan looked around and saw Garibaldi sauntering toward the door; he caught her eye and waved, then went on his way with a little spring in his step. Lyta and Zack had left together awhile ago, her smiling, him with his head bent to catch what she was saying. Something starting there, Susan thought. She hoped it would work out; Lyta deserved a lucky break after everything she'd been through. Mayan and Delenn's mother, along with half a dozen Rangers, were helping the kitchen staff clear up. She watched Chenann vanish into a back room with a stack of plates, then reappear empty-handed. Mayan met her halfway across the cafeteria, and they both walked to where David Sheridan waited by the main door. He extended an arm to each of them, and all three walked off. Lennier was nowhere in sight… and as for the happy couple… nope, not going to go there.

She glanced at Marcus, who'd turned away to put his violin in its case. He snapped the hasps shut, straightened up and looked at her. "Care to come out for a coffee?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Marcus, we've been gorging ourselves silly for the past three hours at least. If I had gills, I'd be stuffed to them. And you want to go out for something to eat?"

He shrugged. "I'd just like to go out. With you. Coffee and a pastry gives us something to do with our hands. You know, in case there are any awkward moments. Say yes."

She would likely regret this later, but just now she felt too happy to care. "What the hell. Why not?"

ooOoo

The first thing Delenn felt upon waking was his warmth at her back, the silken smoothness where their bare skins touched. He was spooned against her, chin resting on her shoulder, one arm draped across her waist. A slow, deep breath brought her the scent of him… of us, she thought…musky and spicy-sweet. She smiled with her eyes shut, knowing what she would see when she opened them: John's bedroom, his sheets and blanket half-piled on top of their twined bodies.

She opened her eyes and looked down at where his hand rested on her stomach. Remembering all the places that hand had touched her last night made her blush and sparked heat deep inside. She shifted around to face him, just as he opened his eyes.

His sleepy smile made her giddy. "Good morning, Mrs. Sheridan," he murmured.

She traced his lips with one hand. "I like the sound of that."

"Me, too." His mouth moving against her fingertips intensified her desire. She kissed him, pressing his lips apart under hers in the way she knew he liked.

"Somehow…" he said, when he could speak again, "I get the feeling you're not interested in breakfast."

She gave a throaty laugh. "Not yet."

ooOoo

By some miracle, Sheridan had found them a small, clear space amid the chaos of the passenger lounge. Chenann stood next to Delenn, Mayan waiting on the other side, and wished she could stay another day. Or several. But home called, and duty… and she was beginning to miss the quiet order of the chapter house. A little. "I will convey your respects to the Eldest of our order," she said to Delenn. Then, with a touch of dry humor: "And I thought I would speak with Elder Callenn as well. He is no doubt eager to hear everything about your wedding, down to the smallest detail. It would be graceless to disappoint him, would it not?"

Delenn kept her expression grave, though the gleam in her eyes gave her away. "Oh, of course. We must avoid disappointing Elder Callenn at all costs. Spare nothing; tell him everything you can think of."

Just for a moment, Chenann let her own merriment show in her face. Then she sobered and placed a hand over Delenn's heart. "I will miss you terribly, mai'le. Again."

Delenn's eyes were over-bright as she mirrored her mother's gesture. "We will always have the memory of this time together. I could not ask for any greater gift."

She touched her forehead to her daughter's. Her throat felt tight, and it was hard to speak. "You were my gift," she said. "And now I have you back." She took a step away then and bowed deeply, using the formal gesture to bring herself under control.

Delenn returned the bow, and Chenann saw that control was no easier for her. "Be well, Oma'mai," she said, her voice rough with emotion.

"And you," Chenann replied.

The final boarding call echoed through the lounge. Mayan turned to Delenn, and they took each other's hands. "Send me a message when you arrive," Delenn said. "Send me dozens. A hundred. Tell me how you are doing, and what you are doing. And…" Her gaze shifted past Mayan's shoulder, to where Chenann stood. A slender figure in silver-gray, dark eyes shining as they met Delenn's one last time.

"I will tell you everything," Mayan said. She pressed her forehead to Delenn's in a quick, warm caress. "And now we must go. But only for now." She turned away and joined Chenann, and the two women walked off toward the docking bay.

At the bay entrance, Chenann looked back. Delenn was standing next to Sheridan, his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him as if for comfort.

One last time, Chenann raised her hand and held it out toward her daughter's heart.