A Purer Love

"It is a transformation," Delenn said with wonder, as though such optimism would quell Lennier's own nervousness. "And a great honor."

"Yes, I-I am sure it is." When Lennier had first arrived on the station, he would have bitten his tongue. Even back then, her beauty and compassion had stolen his gaze, but now… he had grown to admire her far too deeply to stay silent. "But… and forgive me if I overstep, but does it have to be you?"

Her smile twitched for a moment before broadening. He was certain it was supposed to be reassuring, but it only unsettled him further. It was reminiscent of the religious cult, the Brothers of Ralrienn, whose members had visited his temple years prior. Devotion to one's cause was admirable; it was why they had been allowed to preach their ways there at all. But even Lennier could identify when, perhaps, it had gone a step too far.

He may not have seen it then, but… and Valen forgive him, having someone to devote himself to gave him a factor to weigh religious devotion against. It did not lessen his religious beliefs, but it was certainly a tool for perspective. Therefore both looking back to the Brothers and in front of him to Delenn's faithful gaze made him feel as though something was very, very wrong.

"Lennier, being chosen for this process is a rare privilege," she explained. So rare that none had ever before undergone it from his understanding, which meant any of a high number of factors could go horribly wrong. "I would not have it any other way." Her hand rested against his cheek, likely in an effort to put him at ease, but it only made his heart race faster. "I know this may be difficult for you, but I trust you will devote yourself to my safety with the fullest loyalty."

He swallowed. "You have my word, Ambassador Delenn."

-

Her opinion on the transformation had taken a downward spiral, to say the least, once she had emerged from her cocoon. She tried weakly to maintain hope that it was not a mistake, that it would be worth the pain, that she had not become a monstrosity. But Lennier wondered if she clung to such ideas because she knew there was no reversing the damage she had done to her once elegant form.

He did all he could, even allowing a human doctor to treat her condition. But she continued to tremble and cry out in pain; only in part, Lennier assumed, from the physical side of what she was enduring.

It was worse than he could have imagined in the end. Yes, she had somewhat regained her likeness and the physical pain had eased, but she…

Her beautiful crest had shrunk beneath the mane of human hair sprouting from her scalp. Her facial structure had softened, and he was certain there were other changes beneath her clothes he had not been privy to witnessing.

Nothing could have prepared him to watch her become one of them. But now, the person he perhaps loved most shared the genetic features of a inferior, primitive race. It was a struggle to see her as the Delenn he had come to admire so strongly. How could she knowingly do this to herself? 

Even so, he vowed to remain by her side, careful to keep his repulsion silent. If her transformation caused him to feel such disgust, she would surely be handling it with far less comfort than her façade would imply.

Evidently, she was trying to be strong so as not to worry those around her, but she should have realized she did not require such lies around him. In such a vulnerable state, she needed him. And, despite his own discomfort, he faithfully accepted the duty to be her rock through it all.

He describes her dizzying presence in his journal, ink fluidly linking letters. When she is absent, it will be a capsule for the emotions her grace instills... Though it only takes picturing her crest's ridges or feeling her heart's warmth in his own to make his stomach flutter.

"Is something wrong, Lennier?" He flinches, realizing his observance has been caught. She watches him inquisitively, eyes green as the gardens of home.

His head bows, hiding his persistent smile, though his eyes remain lost in hers. "No, Delenn."

The way she speaks his name, however, could never be recreated in ink.

They bring Lennier to her with his arms restrained behind his back.

It isn't that she doesn’t expect this kind of ruse, but it's still a surprise to see him fall to the base's cracked tile flooring, bowing his head like it’s an average day on Babylon 5. 

An associate hands her his pike.

"Did she send you?" Lyta finally asks. She's confident she already knows the answer. After all, what would a Minbari Ranger, more importantly one who's been Delenn's lapdog for years, want with the human telepath resistance? 

"No." He shakes his head, crowned despite being a peasant on her throne-room floor. There's a slight tremble to his voice, like that one word is only the tip of an iceberg hiding beneath frigid waves. His gaze slowly rises. "I came to help."

She almost laughs, but she can't not be intrigued.

"You know I'm going to have to scan you, right? If you're lying, there will be consequences."

 "Do as you wish."

Either he's telling the truth or he's been trained, brimming with weakly threaded “memories” to lead her people off the ISA's trail. Delenn couldn't be thoughtless enough to think that’d work, could she? Well…

She shoots her sharp gaze through his thoughts.

It takes some effort at first to navigate a Minbari mind. Despite her enhancements she doesn't have much experience with their twisted pathways and specific neural frequencies. It gets easier, though, and she can't say she minds the discomfort on his face.

There's an abundance of boring everyday to sort through first, but when she gets the hang of it his thoughts open up to an incident on a White Star that makes everything clear.

Sheridan was dying. The choice weighed in Lennier's mind for hardly a flicker. She managed to make out the blur beside Sheridan as another Ranger, which she supposed should call into question Lennier's loyalties, but… he'd never been a Ranger at heart, had he? It was only ever for Delenn, just like everything else he’d ever done in any other moment.

But there, it was easy to run away. It was harder to let the guilt sink in and recognize how much it'd hurt Delenn to find Sheridan’s corpse blue and lifeless. It was harder to go back, and it was too late for his own narrative once he had.

Maybe that's what he was doing here. He didn’t come due to an intrinsic selfless desire to help, and really if that’s what it were it'd only make her more suspicious. Delenn, despite her refusal to confront her mistakes head-on, sympathized with their cause just enough to catch Lennier's eye.

And it was probably a satisfying blow to Sheridan, too. Whether or not the ISA were truly off their backs at this point didn’t matter. Lennier had an opportunity to do good in a place where Sheridan fucked up. How could he resist? 

It's almost funny. She hadn't expected it from innocent Lennier, the same enamored little aide who would bring her tea while conducting business with his master. He was always so compliant, so useful. But you can only grin and bear it so long when the people you’d die for will never, ever love you back. Delenn especially had a knack for attracting pawns and showing no mercy when throwing them across the board. 

He'd come so close to realizing it, to embracing the fact that to love Delenn is to chug a bottle of poison and thank her for rotting your organs. But he still thinks the only toxins flowing through him are his own shameful desires. He holds himself to a standard of purity no living thing could ever truly achieve. 

Really, it was no wonder he snapped.

Too bad he hadn’t succeeded. Sheridan’s connection to the vorlons made him annoyingly immune to her own attempts to end his life. There might not have been another chance that perfect. 

So, if Lennier is still intent on being a pawn… she might just have a job for him. 

It’d take a lot of work. He's still sick enough to do anything to win Delenn’s heart. But that was the strange thing: Delenn had offered forgiveness. He just feels like he hasn’t earned her generosity. Maybe he'd earn it by ratting out Resistance secrets to her precious husband. Maybe he'd earn it by doing good for their cause to compensate for all of Sheridan's messes. Only time would tell.

But with that time, maybe she'd be able to mold him into someone who actually knows what they deserve; someone who acts on their own desires without trying to bury the one moment of agency they'd ever let take hold; and someone who knows it isn’t forgiveness they have to earn. It’s an apology they have to take. 

She grins as he slumps forward, blood trickling from his nostrils. 

"What was that old saying?" she asks, lightly tapping her palm with his pike. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"Sheridan… isn't my enemy."

"He is now." The cuffs clink as she snaps them with her mind and gently lifts his chin. With her free hand, she holds out his pike. "Welcome to the Resistance… Mr. Lennier."