Sheridan spent much of the return journey from Narn thinking, trying to make sense of the visions he had been shown, and of the story Neroon had told him. Upon his return, he briefed the Resistance Government on the official purpose for his visit to Narn.

The Kha’Ri had refused to believe that the Minbari were responsible for the assault on Vega 7, and they would lend no official assistance in a strike against the Minbari. Sheridan’s private suspicions as to the fate of Vega 7 remained just that – private. Later, in secret, a more detailed and very selective version of Sheridan’s experiences on Narn was relayed to General Hague by Susan Ivanova. He was left to wonder if the Kha’Ri would be effective allies any more.

There was one other result of Sheridan’s journey to Narn. A few days after his return, he sought out Satai Delenn in her interrogation room. Mr. Welles was not present – Sheridan having waited until that would be the case – and he found Satai Delenn alone with only a security guard and her own nightmares for company.

“Mr. Boggs?” Sheridan said.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Take a walk.”

“Yes, Captain.” Boggs did not like him, Sheridan knew that, but he did not care. He did not expect to be liked.

Delenn raised her head, and he was shocked by just how ill she looked. There was enormous fatigue in her eyes, and despair in her posture. She gasped and spasmed, and he knew what was causing her pain.

He switched off the electric shock device and turned to her.

“How long have you been here?” he asked. “Since I brought you here?” She nodded. “Oh my God, what have they been doing to you?”

“Questions,” she replied. “Scans. More questions.”

Sheridan studied her closely. “How long has it been since you last had something to eat?”

“Minbari can fast for periods of up to twelve days with no ill effects,” she got out. “We do so in times of grief or loss.”

“How long has it been since you last had something to eat?” he repeated.

“Aboard your ship,” she whispered. “Before I arrived here.”

“Eighteen days,” he spat, horrified with himself. He activated his link. “This is Captain Sheridan to Quartermaster Chase.”

“Chase here,” the quartermaster replied. His voice was quiet as ever. Did the man never speak up?

“Bring one full ration pack to cell… oh, what cell is this? Cell nineteen.”

“But Captain, that’s…”

“Just do it.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The ration pack was soon brought, and Sheridan presented it to Delenn. “It’s supposed to contain all the necessary nutrients for humans for several days,” he said. “I’m not sure what it will do for a Minbari… and it tastes horrible by the way…”

“I am sure it will be fine,” she replied. “Thank you, Captain. But… why?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Yes, you do.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I do.”

And he had watched her eat and drink, and afterwards she had rested her head on her arms and slept, and he had watched her.

And no harm came to her, not here in his great house.

And no dreams came to her either.

G’Kar’s preparations to leave his shrine were long. There was much to be done – checking in with his agents, receiving reports, the long, slow process of healing.

Because of all this, he was still there several months later, watched by the Vorlon and by Neroon and Ta’Lon, his trusted guardians.

And yet his trusted guardians did not stop a mysterious alien visiting him late one night.

“Come,” the alien said. “You G’Kar, yes. You must come, yes. Must come.”

“Who are you?” G’Kar asked.

“No no no, never ask that question, never never ask that question. But, I is being called Zathras, and I is being very honoured to be meeting with you, yes.”

“What do you want?”

“No no no, never be asking that question either.”

“Of course not.” G’Kar was surfacing to some degree of wakefulness now. “Well, what can I do for you?”

“You must come with Zathras, yes. Varn send us all to look, yes. Varn tell Zathras to find G’Kar. Zathras look, Zathras travel, and now Zathras is finding G’Kar. Yes. Zathras did well, yes, and now G’Kar must come with Zathras, yes. Is being very important.”

“Go with you? Where?”

“The Great Machine, of course. Yes yes. The Great Machine.”

“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.”