"WHO are you?"
      "I am Delenn."
      "That's not what I asked.  Who are you?"
      "That is the only answer I can give you.  I was a Satai of the Grey Council.  I was a member of the clan of Mir, of the religious caste.  I was many things.  Now, I am just Delenn."
      Captain John J. Sheridan looked directly at her and bowed his head, thumping the table angrily.  Nothing made sense to him any more.  It hadn't since his return from the Narn homeworld.  He had.... seen things there which had forced him to re-evaluate so much of his life.  He had learned about the Enemy, about a network of agents being set up to combat this mysterious Enemy, led by a man he had every reason to respect and trust.  And he had learned that he might be directly responsible for bringing this Enemy into an alliance with what remained of the human race.  Everything John Sheridan held dear was collapsing around him, and this woman was at the centre.
      A Minbari.  A Satai no less.  She had been part of the destruction of his home planet.  She had watched while he had been brought, chained and bloodied, before the Grey Council.  She had fallen during his escape, and had been brought here, to Proxima 3.  Sheridan had known what would be done to her.  She was the first source of accurate, reliable information about the Minbari that the Resistance Government had had since the war began fourteen years ago.  Humanity would do anything to gain that information.
      But still.... Sheridan had been shocked by the sight of her upon his return.  Moaning, delirious, starving, weakened....  He had performed a single act of mercy - food, drink and sleep.  And why?  What was she to him?  An enemy?  A monster?  A woman all alone in the night?
      "Who are you?" he whispered, speaking not to her, but to himself.  A question to which he did not know the answer.
      "Captain," she said cautiously, and he looked up.  "You are not alone in your pain.  No one ever is."
      "You are."
      She paused.  "No.  I have my memories, and my purpose.  I have my meditations.  I am not alone."
      Sheridan begged to differ.  The only one of her kind in a world where she had no friends at all.  He had even heard that there had been riots while he was gone, as people struggled to have her brought forward for execution.  Her only home now was a grey room, with walls, two chairs and a table.  Her only company, the harshly ironic, coldly brutal Mr. Welles, able to tear her apart mentally and emotionally without laying a finger on her; or the silent guards who simply stared with eyes of hatred; or Sheridan himself....
      "On Narn I met someone called Neroon," he said.  "He.... seemed to know you."
      "Neroon," she said his name softly, as if he had always been foremost in her mind, but she had never been able to admit it until now.  "I miss him, but.... he has his path and I have mine.  Who would have thought mine would lead me here?"
      "Not him, certainly.  Did you have many.... friends on Minbar?"
      "A few.  Many were lost.  The war.  The Enemy.  Branmer's was a sad death."
      "Ah yes.  I've heard of him.  He led in the Line, didn't he?"
      "And the Rangers after that.  He was a great man."
      "I.... I was just wondering.... did you have any family at all?  A brother or a sister?"
      "No," she said softly.  "My mother entered the Daughters of Valeria just after I was born, and I have seen her only a few times since.  My father.... he went to the sea many years ago.  I miss him.  He was a good man, wise and gentle.  I have.... cousins, but no close family left.  Except for Draal."
      Sheridan wasn't catching some of what she had said.  The Daughters of Valeria?  Some sort of religious order?  Went to the sea?  "Draal?" he said softly.  It was not a name he recognised.
      "My father's greatest friend.  He was my teacher when I was a child, and my conscience as an adult.  He.... was an old and dear friend."
      "Was?"
      "He is still alive.... I hope.  But.... I am lost to him now.  I am lost to everyone."  She looked up and met his gaze.  Sheridan was aware of how he must look.  He hadn't shaved in days, and fatigue and bitterness never seemed to leave his eyes.  Anna had complained about his appearance often enough.  "And you, Captain?  Do you have any family here?"
      Coming from anyone else, Sheridan would have lashed out after a question like that, but not here.  He had hit Delenn once and had felt sick afterwards.  "My parents and sister died on Earth," he said, trying to keep all emotion and tone from his voice.  He saw Delenn's eyes widen and she breathed in sharply, a soft gasp of contrition.  "My daughter died a few years ago.  My wife is still here but.... she's not the same woman I married."
      "I.... I am sorry, Captain.  I.... Oh, Valen...."  She looked as though she were about to cry.  He met her gaze for a moment and he saw, reflected in her eyes, the light of a dying Earth, and a dying dream with it.  "He was right," she breathed.  "Mr. Welles was right.  I.... I have destroyed so much.  So much gone never to be reclaimed.  So much gone forever.  Valen forgive me."
      Sheridan listened silently to her litany, and then, without wholly realising what he was doing, he knelt down beside her chair and touched her hand, covering it with his own.
      The room was silent, save for the rhythmic thud of her heartbeat and the quiet, peaceful motions of their breathing, which seemed in tune with each other.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lyta Alexander was a woman with a mission, and that mission was to track down the man who was always hanging around with Captain Sheridan.  Marcus, she understood his name to be.  She had run into him a number of times since his return to Proxima 3 with Captain Sheridan, and he had tried to avoid her, on one occasion actively running away.  Lyta had been on Proxima 3 long enough to realise that Captain Sheridan never liked hanging around on planet when he could possibly avoid it, and it was a fair bet that he would be off again soon.  That would mean Marcus would be going off with him, and she had to get hold of him first.
      That was however, easier said than done.  Points to bear in mind:
1.   Sheridan was on the planet, not aboard the Babylon.
2.   Marcus was as close to Sheridan as his shadow, so it made sense that Marcus
      would be on the planet as well.
3.   Find Sheridan, and therefore, find Marcus.
      Unfortunately Sheridan was a master at not being found.  It was one of the reasons why he was still alive.  Lyta had precious few hours left before her next attempt at scanning the mind of that Minbari for Mr. Welles, and she wanted to make sure she found Marcus before that.
      (And every moment she spent looking for - and thinking about - Marcus was a moment she did not spend remembering her dreams.)
      Easier said than done.  General Hague had no idea where he was, and Sheridan was definitely not meeting with the Resistance Government, who were batting heads with each other all afternoon.  Sheridan was also not with his wife, who had probably passed out in some bar somewhere.
      There was only one place left to check, and she had made sure to leave it until last.  Delenn's cell was not exactly the most pleasant place on the planet, and there was a possibility that Welles would be there.  Lyta did not like Welles, not at all.  She didn't like having to invade Delenn's mind, and she definitely didn't like having Welles watch her while she was doing it.
      Welles.... it was as if he were a simple automaton.  Whatever humanity was inside of him had been destroyed with Earth.  She had tried a casual scan of him once, just out of curiosity, and she had been repelled by the cold, precise purpose of the man.  To him, everything was a set of problems to be solved, and steps to be taken in the reclamation of humanity's legacy.  There was no humanity in him.
      Still, despite the risk of running into Welles, she decided that she had to check the area out.  Marcus might well be worth the risk.
      The security guard on duty at the entrance to the prison block looked up sharply.  Lyta recognised him.  A cool, precise, dedicated man named Morishi.  He at least had some sort of soul to him, even if that soul was blackened to extreme violence whenever anybody mentioned Minbari.
      "Miss Alexander," he said.  "I wasn't expecting you for another three hours."
      "I was looking for someone," she said breezily.  "Tell me, is Captain Sheridan in here?"
      "You know I'm not allowed to give out information like that, Miss Alexander."
      "Of course," she said smiling.  She sat up on his desk and crossed her legs, still smiling as she stared at him.  Why couldn't it have been Cutter?  He would have been so busy staring at her legs - or maybe her chest - that he wouldn't have noticed any attempt to scan his mind.  Morishi was too professional by far.  Still, Lyta was very good at what she did.  "Mr. Welles then?  I have something I should just talk over with him."
      "Mr. Welles is resting," Morishi said, not taking his eyes away from hers.  Never loosing her smile, she slowly took off one black glove and touched his cheek.  "You.... should.... come.... back.... at.... fifteen....  Yes, of course, Miss Alexander.  Just go straight in."
      Lyta jumped down from the desk and breezed straight past him, replacing her glove as she did so.  Morishi would get into trouble for that when Welles came back, but that could be dealt with later.  She had at least discovered that Sheridan was in Delenn's cell, and therefore Marcus would be with him.
      She made her way along the tortuous corridors swiftly, smiling and nodding at the various guards as she did so.  Cutter was one of them, and to him she did not smile.  She had no need of telepathy to pick up what he was thinking.
      The nearer she got to Delenn's cell, the slower her walk became.  She could practically sense the fear and the hatred that came from inside the room, ingrained in there over long weeks of questions and pain.  She had been inside Delenn's mind a total of six times now, and she did not like the experience.  She had no reason to love the Minbari, but she felt the fear and grief and anguish in Delenn's mind, and it unnerved her.
      (Besides, there was something else there, something that knew Lyta was there too.)
      But not all the fear and the grief and the anguish came from Delenn.  Rounding the corner, she ran almost smack into Marcus.  He had clearly been pacing up and down, and she could sense the concern in his mind.  He stepped back from her and nodded his head in what she supposed was an apology.  He then stepped aside.  She looked at him and smiled.  She'd spent a long time perfecting that smile.
      "Satai Delenn is in her normal room," Marcus said.  "Captain Sheridan is with her."
      "I didn't come here for Satai Delenn, or for Captain Sheridan."
      "Oh?"
      "I came here for you.  How would you like dinner tonight?  I'm not much of a cook, but I'm sure I could manage something."
      He simply stared.  "Miss Alexander...."
      "That makes me feel like a schoolteacher.  My name is Lyta, and you are Marcus."
      "You hardly know me."
      "Then dinner will be a good chance to get to know you.  My quarters at.... say.... eight o'clock tonight."
      "I don't know where your quarters are."
      She smiled again, and touched his forehead lightly.  "Now you do."  She was very unprepared for his reaction.  He lunged forward and threw her against the wall, pressing her against it tightly.
      "Never do that to me again!" he snapped.  "Never!"
      She looked up into his eyes and her smile faded.  A subtle telepathic sting and he recoiled, rubbing at his forehead.  It was a momentary burst of pain, and nothing more.  "And never do that to me again," she said.  "Unless I ask you to."
      He looked at her, and there was pain and confusion and querying in his eyes.  "Why?" he whispered.
      "Why what?"
      "Why would you ask me to dinner?"
      She smiled again.  "You'll find out when you get there."
      "Eight o'clock," he whispered and she nodded.  "I'll be there.  And.... thank you."
      She looked at him and caught again the sheer pain that lay behind his eyes.  He was almost screaming there.  Behind the façade, behind the bodyguard or the warrior, there was an existence simply of pain.  Slowly, gently, she reached out to him.  He made no gesture, no sound, but instead, seemed to welcome her touch, both physical and mental.  She slowly removed her glove and touched his cheek....
      "Ah, Miss Alexander.  It is good to see you here early.  Your commitment is welcome."  Lyta jumped back as if hit by PPG fire.  Starting, she turned around to see Welles standing there.  He was simply looking at her, his arms crossed, his expression.... patient.  "I had not expected you for another three hours, and I would be most interested to learn how you got past Mr. Morishi.  But never mind, it is good that you are showing such enthusiasm.  Follow me."
      He swept past her and she looked up at Marcus.  Slowly, she replaced her glove, never losing his gaze.  The pain and confusion were still there.  He looked away sharply.  "I'll be there," he said again.
      Lyta's smile as she followed Welles into Delenn's cell was a very different smile from her usual one.  This time there was genuine happiness in it.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"We cannot ignore the possibility, William," barked President Crane.  "The danger is very real, believe me."
      "But Madame President," General Hague replied, knowing that he was doomed even as he began the sentence, "the Narns have proved trustworthy allies in the past.  To abandon them now...."
      "Trustworthy, he says!" scoffed Vice President Clark.  "They lend us no military assistance, in spite of our aid to them in the war with the Centauri.  They sell us weapons at vastly extortionate prices, and only when it suits them to do so.  They rule over our people on our colonies, and tax them almost to death.  And then they expect our automatic aid whenever they get into a skirmish with the Centauri, or the Tuchanq or the T'llin.  If that is your idea of a trustworthy ally, General Hague, I would hate to see your idea of an enemy."
      "The enemy is the Minbari, as you well know, Vice President, and given a choice between the Minbari or the Narns, I would take the Narns.  If it weren't for their intervention, the odds are we wouldn't even be here."
      "That's as it may be, William," Crane replied, "but the Centauri may well prove to be better allies.  They ask little, and they promise a great deal."
      "Madame President, the Centauri cannot defeat the Narns.  That is a fact, and take it as read.  Neither can the Narns defeat the Centauri, and we, as things stand, would be lucky to defeat a planet full of teddy bears!  If we lend our negligible military strength to the Centauri, then they would not give us our colonies back, because they would be in no position to do so.  What would happen is that the Narns would very likely sell us all out to the Minbari, and then Proxima Three would go the same way as Earth."
      "But the Narns have asked for our military aid in their next war with the Centauri," Clark said.  "Given that the next war is likely to happen either this year or the next, we will either have to give it, or ally ourselves with the Centauri and that...."
      "Either way, Vice President," Hague interjected, "the point is moot if the Minbari blow us all apart first.  You have all read the reports Mr. Welles has made from his interrogation of our Minbari captive.  The reason they have held back from any decisive attack thus far is because of the power struggle going on in their Grey Council.  Given that one half of that power struggle is now lying in our prison, it's likely that this.... Sinoval.... will take over the Grey Council, and lead the war straight here."
      "The problem, if I may be so bold as to say so," brought up General Takashima, General Franklin's former head of staff, who had been raised to the Resistance Government following Franklin's death, "is with neither the Minbari, nor the Narns, but with our military.  As you all know, our military strength consists almost entirely of Captain Sheridan and his Babylon.  We have neither the resources nor the money to build new heavy class warships, and the Narns won't sell us anything of that size.  We can barely manage to replace Sheridan's Starfury losses.  And Sheridan.... has a mind of his own.  There is little point in us debating and arguing if the effective head of our army decides just to ignore whatever we tell him, as he has done on numerous occasions."
      "Exactly," Hague said, glaring at Takashima, and no less at Clark.  It was well known that Takashima was in Clark's pocket.  "I think that is where our allies might come in.  You have all read Lieutenant Ivanova's report, I trust.  She has offered us the complete and unconditional assistance of this mysterious race of aliens.  All they want, apparently, is to live in peace, and if that means wiping out the Minbari, then so be it.  She wants an answer, and I have to give it to her.  I am sure I do not have to remind you of the sheer power of these aliens?"
      "No," Crane said.  "You do not.  It is their sheer power that worries me.  We know nothing about this race.  We have seen no Ambassador or envoy, just this Lieutenant Ivanova.  She offers us the help of this race none of us has seen in order to help annihilate the Minbari.  If they are that powerful, then why haven't they done so themselves?  And I am not the only one to be doubtful of these aliens.  Captain Sheridan has formally noted his.... suspicions...."
      "You're being a fool, Marie," snapped Clark.  "And Captain Sheridan is simply afraid that he will not be indispensable any longer.  They offer us the greatest hope we can get for the end of this war.  We don't have to trust them.  We just have to ally ourselves with them."
      "I agree," said Takashima.
      Crane looked around at the others, who either bowed their heads or spoke up in agreement.  She knew a losing cause when she saw one.  "Fine.  Tell Lieutenant Ivanova that we accept her offer of an alliance, but she must remain on Proxima Three, and she must be answerable to this assembly for the actions of her allies.  You will be responsible for this, William.  Do you understand?"
      "Perfectly, Madame President."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sheridan had watched Welles' brutal interrogation of Delenn with silent, staring eyes.  He had watched as Welles had dragged each piece of information, kicking and screaming from her.  He had never struck her, never touched her, never even caused her physical harm, but he had managed to tear down everything she was, and everything she believed in with merely a few well chosen words.  He had spoken about Earth, about severed dreams, and lost souls and broken spirits.  He had spoken of countless deaths, he had spoken of the heart of the human race - the planet Earth - and of how it was gone forever.
      And then he had fallen silent, and left Delenn to her guilt.  And then he had asked her questions: troop movements, army organisation, supply lines, technology.  Each piece of information she gave was verified by Miss Alexander, who repeatedly violated Delenn's mind.
      The whole thing lasted several hours, during which time Welles uncovered information that would have taken months of scouting operations and hundreds of lives.  Sheridan recognised the equation, but he still felt disgusted by what he had witnessed.  Welles had seemed oblivious to the stare Sheridan was boring into the back of his head.  It was easier for Sheridan than looking at Delenn.
      When it was over, Welles had yawned, and risen to his feet.  He flicked a switch, at which motion Delenn had started, and then he left, saluting Sheridan as he did so.  Sheridan simply stared at him, and then at Lyta.  She looked haggard and weary, and her walk as she left was slow and hesitant.
      Sheridan looked at Welles' chair, and then sat down on the table.  He flicked back the switch that Welles had activated.  He knew what it did.  It gave short, irritating electrical shocks through Delenn's chair at various intervals.  A means to prevent her sleeping.  Sleep deprivation was the oldest form of human torture.
      "Why did you do that?" Delenn asked.
      "I don't like torture," was his sharp reply.  "I don't.... I didn't like what I just saw."
      "Fortunes of war," she rasped.  "Would Sinoval or Kalain have treated you any better?  Probably not."
      "But I'm not them.  At least, I hope I'm not."
      "You will get into trouble," she said.  "They must know you had food brought to me."
      "I don't care.  What can they do to me?  I'm their only hope and they know it."  She smiled slightly.  "What?" he laughed.  "What?"
      "You remind me of Neroon sometimes.  He does too, but he merely looks and sounds like Neroon.  You act like him."
      "Really?"  Sheridan tried to digest that piece of information.  "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
      "A good thing.  Definitely a good thing."
      "Oh, thank you." He paused again and looked at her.  Sometimes he nearly managed to forget what she was, and what she had done.  Nearly.  "There's.... there's something I need to ask you.  I don't know if this makes any sense, but I just.... have a feeling that I've known you before.  I don't know how to put it into words.  When I look at you, I.... don't see a Minbari.... I see you.  If that makes any sense."
      She smiled again.  "We believe that souls travel together over many lifetimes, reliving the good relationships, and putting right the wrong ones."
      "What?  You think this crazy feeling is because our souls have some kind of.... cosmic sewing circle going?"
      "I do not recognise the term, but it is possible."  She suddenly looked up, at the guard who stood silently at the door.  Sheridan caught her expression, and gave the guard a sharp gesture.  He looked unhappy, but left.  "Captain, I feel.... that.... ah, there is something I should tell you.... something that they have not been able to take from me.  We.... ah, this is difficult.  We believe that the souls of each generation are reborn in the next, that when one of us dies, his or her soul is placed in someone who comes afterwards.  Do you have any such beliefs, Captain?"
      "I.... once.... I suppose.  I stopped believing in anything when I saw Earth for the last time."  His words were not meant to wound, but they still did so.  She bowed her head, and it took a few moments before she was able to speak again.
      "But for the past thousand years, each generation has seemed.... less that its predecessors.  There are fewer of us being born, and those who are do not seem up to those who came before.  Almost as if their souls were disappearing.  And.... our great religious leader Valen left certain prophecies for the future, prophecies about an Ancient Enemy returning, about fire and darkness and about the need to unite with the other half of our soul, or we would be destroyed.  I could never work out what he meant by that, but when I saw you and Sinoval confronting each other, I think I did.
      "These words are near to blasphemy, Captain, but I cannot ignore them any longer.  I.... I think our souls have been going to you."
      "What?  That's.... that's absurd.  Isn't it?"
      "I don't know.  I.... I would have thought so, but.... there is something else.  When I was a child, I saw a vision of Valen.  I was separated from my parents, and lost and hiding in an abandoned temple.  I saw a vision of Valen there, who said that he would not allow harm to come to me.  Our prophecies always wrote of Valen as being Minbari not born of Minbari.  While I was questioned not long ago, I experienced another vision.  I think Valen was human."
      Sheridan opened his mouth, but couldn't find anything to say.  This all sounded so absurd.  Finally, he spoke up.  "We've only had space travel on any scale for a hundred years or so.  From what I've heard, Valen's a lot further back than that."  She nodded.  "How can that be possible?"
      "I do not know, but it is all I can think of.  I.... was on my way to test out this theory when I came across you and.... the other."
      "Test it?"  His eyes narrowed.  "How?"
      "There is.... an artifact, called the Triluminary.  There are three, in fact.  I borrowed one.  They can be used as a telepathic scan, or to.... study a soul.  I was going to study your soul, Captain, and discover if what I believed was true."
      "A Triluminary?  You mean one of these?"  Sheridan fished in his pocket and pulled out a triangular object, made of a metal he couldn't identify.  She nodded, her mouth open in surprise.  "I took it from you then.  You honestly think that I have a Minbari soul."
      "I do not know.  I.... I am scared, Captain.  If that is true, then the war with the Enemy is coming, sooner than any of us can guess.  I am afraid of what will happen if I am not there to lead against them."
      "Ah.  So that's it.  I suppose you'd just like me to let you out of here, would you?  Send you back to Minbar?  Even let go of our new allies?"
      "Captain, please!  You must have had.... doubts.... about them?"
      He paused, and then nodded slowly.  "Yes, but for the moment, I don't care.  I honestly think that you believe what you're saying, but you don't have any power over the Minbari at the moment.  Sooner or later your people will be coming for us, and we will have to be ready.  If that entails making a Faustian bargain, then so be it.  There will be plenty of time to worry about our new friends when we are safe."
      "Then it will be too late."
      "It's never too late."  He pocketed the Triluminary and stepped back.  "I have to go and check on my ship.  We're heading out on border patrol in a few days, and I have to make sure everything is all right."
      "I.... Yes.... I understand.  Thank you, Captain."
      He said nothing as he left.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lyta looked at her carefully arranged table and nodded silently.  Perfect!  She was wearing her favourite green and brown dress.  The meal was cooked and ready - although the food was considerably lacking given the poor plantations and hydroponics here - but it would be edible.  Besides, it was the company that would make the evening bearable.  Assuming the company ever arrived.
      At twenty five minutes past eight - or 2025, she supposed she should call it - he did.  He stepped inside slowly, as if he were entering a room full of Minbari rather than the home of one - very beautiful, she thought in her completely unbiassed opinion - woman.  He looked around slowly and gave her a bottle.  She read the label and smiled.
      "Orange juice.  Thank you."
      "There, um, aren't many places I could find something to drink.  And I had to wait until Captain Sheridan returned to the Babylon before I could start looking."
      "It's wonderful.  It's practically impossible to find real fruit juice out here."
      "It isn't.... exactly...."
      "You were thinking of not coming, weren't you?"
      "Are you scanning me?"
      "No," she lied.  "Just observation.  I'm not that imposing, am I?"
      "No.... it's just.... why did you ask me here?  You hardly know me."
      "You intrigue me, and I'm not easily intrigued.  I'm.... interested in you."  He looked as though he were about to bolt any second.  "Come on, sit down.  The meal will be getting cold.  And I have a fairly nice bottle of Centauri brandy.  Much nicer than the Narn stuff."
      "I.... don't.... drink alcohol," he said carefully.  She looked at him and silently cursed herself.  She could sense it, hovering just below the surface, the rushing red rage, fired by alcohol and fuelled by hatred.  He was.... had been an alcoholic.
      "That's fine," she said.  "We'll try your orange juice."
      He had eaten silently throughout the meal, ignoring her attempts at conversation, or giving quick, monosyllabic answers.  She had avoided questioning him about his family - she could sense the loss in his mind - but she knew about the Vega 7 massacre.  At least, she knew what had been reported.  She also knew that what had been reported was - to put it bluntly - either a deliberate lie, or a serious error with regard to the truth.
      She did take the opportunity to make a number of quick, casual scans.  He didn't seem to notice, and she had taken care not to be detected.  He was angry.  Brimming just away from view was an intense, surging anger, directed at the world, at the Minbari, at.... something she didn't recognise and didn't want to, but most of all at himself.  Anger and hatred and terror and grief, all wrapped up into one bundle.  Lyta was more than intrigued.  She was fascinated.
      "Do you really hate the Minbari so much?" she asked.
      Marcus started as if electrocuted.  He looked at her, seemingly unsure of what to say.  She cocked her head slightly, and put on the softest, friendliest smile she could manage.
      "They took away everything I was born with," he whispered.  "They took away my heritage, my dreams, my reasons for living, the only two people I've ever cared about.  Yes, I hate them.  Don't you?"
      "I don't know.  I've never really thought about it.  What happened.... happened.  Did I lose friends on Earth?  Yes.  Family?  Yes.  But.... hatred won't bring them back.  Killing the Minbari won't bring them back.  Psi Corps was destroyed with Earth, and it had been my reason for living.  The Corps is mother, the Corps is father.  I was raised by the Corps and clothed by the Corps, and now it's gone.  But.... just because the Corps doesn't exist any more, it doesn't mean I have to stop being what they made me.  I serve the Resistance Government because it gives me a purpose, and a reason for living.  All you need to do is find your reason for living."
      "I have one," he rasped.
      "No, I'm sorry Marcus, but I don't think you ever did.  You're with Captain Sheridan because you hope to find somewhere to die."  She smiled, sad and bittersweet this time.  "You need a reason for coming back."  Slowly, she reached out across the table and touched his cheek with her gloved fingers.  "And I.... I think I need something too.  I need to help people.  I can help you."
      "Did you read those things in my mind?"
      "No," she lied again.  "I'm simply.... I've got used to observing people over the years.  It makes what I do easier.  I could enter your mind if you like.  I could help you, but only if you want me to."
      "No one can help me.  No one at all.  Not even you."
      "What about Captain Sheridan?  Ah, I thought that would get a reaction.  He's as bad as you are, Marcus.  Worse, if anything.  Stay away from him.  Sooner or later, he's going to launch a suicide mission he won't be coming back from, and I don't want you to fail to come back as well."
      "Why?  Just because you're.... intrigued by me."
      "Your death would be a waste.  I think you've still got a great deal to offer life."
      "The only thing I have to offer anyone is my death.  Don't take that away from me."
      "I have to, Marcus.  I.... I can feel that you've never had many friends, have you?  Few people who cared.  Always the loner?"  He nodded and looked away.  "I'm willing to listen, and to talk, and to be here.  If you want me to."
      "Why do you care about me?  I can't believe you'd offer so much...."
      "Maybe it's because I'm lonely too.  Because I've lived so many lives that belong to other people that I don't know where my own begins.  Or maybe it's simply that my reason for living isn't enough."
      Marcus rose to his feet.  "I don't think you'd like what you'd find in my mind.  Thank you for the meal, but I have to go."  He moved towards the door.
      "Marcus!"  He turned.  "Any time you need my help, just come and ask.  I'll be here."  He was about to speak, but then his head dropped and he left.  Lyta stared at the door as it closed, and shook her head wearily.  "Good thing I enjoy a challenge, isn't it?"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Days passed, days that for Delenn were marked by agony and shame, by questions and answers, by interrogation and humiliation.  She had lost track of time, but Sheridan had not come to visit her again.  She assumed that he had gone on his patrol mission, leaving her alone to Mr. Welles and Miss Alexander.
      She had wept, she had cried out, she had sworn in the name of Valen, and prayed for help, but none had come.  She had tried meditation, she had tried resistance, she had tried thinking of Neroon, or Draal, or her father, or Dukhat, but none of them brought her comfort.  She had tried thinking of Sheridan, and that brought her only pain.
      The door opened and she looked up, expecting to see the telepath.  Welles was questioning her about the Rangers, when he was interrupted.  It was Captain Sheridan.
      "Ah, Captain.  Come to watch again?"  It was impossible for Delenn to identify the emotion in Welles' voice.  It was likely there was none.
      "Not exactly.  I'm leaving for border patrol in a few hours, and I'm taking her with me." Welles raised an eyebrow.  "This is not open for debate."
      "There is still a great deal of information to be gained from her."
      "I don't care.  From now on, you will only question her while I am present.  She will be kept under full Security watch aboard the Babylon.  Her presence here is causing too many distractions."
      "I see.  On whose authority are you doing this?"
      "My own, which is all the authority I need."
      "I see.  And do you feel this is a.... suitable use of your authority?"
      "Yes, I do."
      "Well, then, Captain.  She's all yours.  I just hope that you are not mistaken in your beliefs.  She is still valuable to us."
      "More valuable to me."  Delenn looked up and met his gaze for the first time since he had entered.  He smiled, and moved to her side, extending his hand.  She took it, and rose.  Under Welles' slow, cynical eye, she moved from the chair, half limping, half carried, resting on Sheridan's strength.
      As the door to the room closed behind her, and she stepped into the corridor, Delenn had never felt so free.
      She smiled.

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