Valentine's Day Unchallenge, Day 6
John Sheridan was terrible at languages. He always had been. He envied his predecessor on Babylon 5 - Sinclair, it was an accepted fact, had an ear for picking up the dialects of other races. John stunk at it. Intergalactic Communications had been his downfall at the Academy; he’d had to repeat the course twice and likely would never have graduated at all if Elizabeth Lochley hadn’t taken pity on him and agreed to spend countless hours tutoring him until he could do more than ask for the time or a restroom in Drazi and Narn.
But back then, of course… they hadn’t covered Minbari at the Academy. During the war, he picked up a little, and now he had a smattering of Minbari under his belt, though he had no idea which dialect they came from - and every single one of them had to do with obliterating his opponent. Every single one, that was, except for one: the very first Minbari words John had ever spoken. Words that had saved his life, words that were ingrained in his memory forever: Isil’zha. The future.
He wanted more. It should have been required of him when he took this post, he thought. But then, Earthgov had had other motives in placing him here.
John sighed, leaned into the arm of his couch and looked back at his computer screen again.
The lines and letters blurred together, swimming on the screen before his tired eyes. He lowered his face to his open palms and shook his head in frustration.
And then his door chime sounded.
It was late. It was very late. At any other post he’d be off duty by now, turning control over to his second so he could get a well-deserved good night’s sleep. But Babylon 5 was different from any other post in so many ways, and this was just another to add to the list. “Come.”
His door cycled open and he looked up expectantly in the brief pause before she walked in.
Sheridan stood reflexively - if nothing else, he was an old-fashioned gentleman to a fault, and he stood and removed his hat when a lady entered the room. And Delenn of Mir, Minbari Ambassador to Babylon 5, was definitely a lady.
A beautiful lady, his heart and mind and body reminded him as he felt his pulse quicken and a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Delenn.”
“Hello, Captain.” She was smiling, too, in that way she did - a small upturn of her lips, eyes sparkling, expression patient and kind. She didn’t want anything from him, didn’t need anything from him… John liked that. He liked that a lot, and it made him want to give her things all the more.
“It’s late.” He sank back down on his couch and she joined him without hesitation. It occurred to him that she needed no invitation; he wanted her right where she was, beside him, squirming just a little to get comfortable before she settled back, rubbing her hands together absently.
“I know.” She looked down at those hands, and so did he. He liked her hands. He wanted to hold those hands in his so badly that his own palms were sweating and he found himself mirroring her fidgety gesture. “I wanted to come by to… apologize.”
The shake of his head was barely perceptible, but incredulousness carried through in his tone and his expression as he faced her profile. “For what?”
“I have acted poorly toward you in regard to recent events. Misjudged you. For all that we have begun to build between us, I should have had more faith in someone whom I consider to be a friend. Instead I reacted instinctively toward your… accusation of Levell.” Sheridan’s gut tightened at the memory, but he struggled to keep his facial expression neutral for her sake. “I acted harshly toward you. And I… I am sorry.”
John couldn’t help the way his face cracked. “You consider me a friend? Me?” A Human? He left off this last part, but it was spinning circles in his mind.
“I believe it is an accurate descriptor of our relationship at this point. Don’t you?”
He gave a measured nod now, and looked away from her for a moment to consider her words and reconcile them with his feelings before flashing an amicable grin. “Apology accepted, Ambassador.”
A confused, curious look came over her face and now it was her turn to barely shake her head. He returned the gesture and John couldn’t help feeling like it was one of those awkward date moments where something has been misunderstood, or the conversation has reached a standstill and neither party is sure where to go next, for fear of embarrassing or upsetting the other. It was Delenn who broke the silence and bridged the cultural gap. “For Minbari,” she said quietly, looking away as though suddenly shy or embarrassed to be divulging such information, “there is a ritual to be performed when two people wish to right a wrong that has divided them.”
“Oh?” Sheridan was hypnotized by the melody of her voice. God, her voice. He didn’t want to interrupt it with an actual question, he just wanted her to keep talking, and he hoped that an inquisitive grunt would carry across the language barrier.
It did. He wrapped himself in her voice. “There are variations to fit the relationship between the two parties, of course; further variations if the two parties are of different castes...” She trailed off, and Sheridan realized somewhere in his foggy mind that he was going to have to ask an actual question, prompt her, if he wished for her to continue speaking. He fumbled clumsily through his mental processes, searching for the right words, but she beat him to it. “What are you working on so late?”
That cleared his mind, which manifested as a clearing of his throat. “I… got to thinking that it’s possible there would’ve been less… confusion, less… trouble,” he tried to choose his words carefully, and she was still looking at him with the same expression she’d had when she asked the question, so that was a good sign, “in the incident with Levell if I… had a better understanding of your language.” He shrugged sheepishly. “In any case, if I’m going to make any sort of good impression on your people here, I figured it would probably help if I learned a little bit of it. You never know when it might come in handy,” he finished with a slight, nervous laugh, and then as an afterthought, the laughter faded from his tone and he turned to her quickly and said, “Unless you think they would find it offensive?”
Delenn was looking at him with an odd expression. If pressed, John would have to call it… approval? “I do not believe it is at all offensive, Captain. In fact, it’s quite an honorable decision. You are to be commended for it.”
At that he laughed again - a loud, full laugh this time, head thrown back a bit before he turned sparkling eyes on her and said, “I doubt you’d be saying that if you heard me speak it.”
“In fairness, you were not present as I was learning to speak your language.” These words came out quietly, and she leaned into the arm of the couch, turning her body to face him. He didn’t mirror her posture, but he did look at her, drinking her in with his eyes.
A long, quiet moment passed, and neither party moved or tore their eyes away. “Vi drosh,” she whispered at last. “I am sorry.”
He nodded, but a sixth sense told him there was no need to repeat this. It was for her benefit, not his.
“Nie’se schlect sim’wa. ‘I am your friend. I come in peace.’”
“Nee seh… “
She shook her head patiently at his struggles. “Something shorter, then. Schlect.”
“Shhleckt.”
“No. Listen.” John leaned toward her, telling himself it was to hear her better… if only over the pounding of his own heart, so loud he was sure she could hear it. “Schlect. Shorter. More syncopated.”
“Syncopated. That’s a big word.” He frowned at his own absent observation, mentally considering that his higher brain functions had abandoned him and he was likely in no position for a language lesson right now. “Schlect.”
A nod and a smile from Delenn, and his brain tweaked at his facial muscles to turn an even bigger, lamer grin at her. She’s so pretty. “Schlect,” she repeated quietly. “My friend.”
Another silence, eyes locked, looking, searching, and John just stared into the depths of her soul. He wanted to know that soul. He wanted her to teach him all the Minbari words in all the Minbari dialects.
“Isil’zha,” she said now, almost a whisper, her eyes never leaving his. “The cornerstone of Minbari belief… a word I heard again and again at Temple, read in the prophecies of Valen. It means-“
“The future.” Delenn’s eyes widened in surprise at the interruption. “Isil’zha.” The words tumbled out of John’s mouth almost on instinct, as if they were etched in his memory - clear, unaccented. To speak them so perfectly, he could only have learned them from a Minbari - and it certainly hadn’t been Delenn.
A vague memory tugged at her heartstrings, and a flash of a long-ago moment, and a dirty, disheveled and admittedly handsome Human soldier whose life she’d held in her hands… whose life she had spared. The first Human she’d ever laid eyes on. Recognition flashed in her eyes.
John saw it, seized it, because it was only there for an instant, and then it was gone, replaced by something else, something he couldn’t quite identify. “Fakanla,” she whispered. “Past.”
“Yes.” It was confirmation enough for both of them. They didn’t need to talk about it. Delenn moved on to other words… and other actions. She reached up to touch him with a hesitant hand, curled knuckles grazing his cheek. John wanted so badly to lean into the touch. He settled for closing his eyes, cutting off one sense to accentuate another. “Volir. To touch.” Sheridan said nothing. Delenn continued, unfolding her fingers, trailing them across his face. “Aiva. Lips.”
Eyes opened, and a very small, still-functioning part of his brain screamed at him to kiss her, to kiss the pads of those fingers that were resting on his lips and then take that hand in his and lean in and kiss her full on the mouth because she was clearly asking for it… but no. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. They were just friends.
Schlect.
Friends.
“I won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”
Delenn’s eyes were still dark and twinkling with something John really wanted to call desire, but he couldn’t quite let himself be convinced of that. She was Minbari. She was different. It was likely innocent, likely something else entirely. But if she knew the first thing about the Human male, she’d know that the look he was giving her was only one of desire, and there was no mistaking it. If she knew… she’d kiss him, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. She seemed to get her wits about her then. “It’s late. We’ll go over this all again in the morning.”
Oh, Lord, yes. Please can we go over this again in the morning? And tomorrow night? And the day after that? And will you teach me all the words about all the things I want to do with you?
“Nee’zahlen, Alyt Sheridan. Goodnight… Captain…” She ducked her head then, as if pulling back from the edge of an action, and bit her bottom lip. He knew that gesture. She was unsure. She was turning timid, turning away from a path she’d previously thought ready to commit to.
She was going to kiss me.
But for whatever reason, she’d backed off, and so he didn’t push. “Nee’zahlen, Ambassador.”
Delenn stood, eyes still locked with his for a moment before she turned and left his quarters. John’s eyes stared at where she had been long after his door cycled closed behind her.
When the fog in his head cleared enough to break the spell, he turned back to his computer with purpose.
Cal’ri. To care for.
Nie cal’ri se. I care for you.
Shan’aiva. Kiss.
A’rahan shan’aiva se? May I kiss you?
He rolled that one around in his brain, practiced it out loud, struggling through the alien syllables. He must have repeated it to his empty quarters twenty times before another thought occurred to him and he requested a new translation from his computer, hesitating just a moment on the decision before he accessed the information.
A’fel E’.
I love you.
He smiled to himself, folding his hands behind his head and kicking his feet up so that he stretched across the length of the couch.
A’fel E’. That was for later, when they were both ready.
Isil’zha. It was the future. He had no doubt.
***
And once we learn to speak it,
All the world will hear
Love in any language
Fluently spoken here.
- Love in Any Language, Sandi Patty