| Neroon was staring at the access terminal in his study, contemplating
the document it displayed for perhaps the eighth or ninth time, when the
door chime sounded. He looked up from the display in surprise, and wondered
who it could be. His father had gone to the sea years ago. His mother, brother,
and sister were posted elsewhere, far from Minbar. He had regular communications
from them all. It might have been one of his subordinates, but there was no reason for them to visit in person rather than calling on the comm system. Rising from his desk, Neroon verbally authorized entry to his home and moved into the hallway to see who his visitor. A human stood there, dressed in dark grey slacks and a silky brown shirt, dark hair hanging loose to his shoulders, his green eyes bright with apprehension. Over one shoulder he carried a moderate sized bag. More than a visitor normally would bring, but less than a man with his life on his shoulders. It took Neroon a long moment to recognize Marcus Cole. Their encounter had been over a year before. So much had happened since, so much had changed, and Neroon had never seen the human in anything but his Anla'Shok robes. Which he was not wearing. Curious. These clothes--Human style, he assumed-- seemed designed to display the long lines of the man's body. "Anla'Shok Cole," Neroon acknowledged, and gestured for the human to step into his home. "Just Marcus, Alyt Neroon," Marcus said, bowing quickly and stepping inside all at the same time. "I've, ah, left the Anla'Shok." The Warrior stopped and fixed his visitor with a shocked gaze. After a moment he modulated it into curiosity, but he could see from the slight flush rising to Marcus's cheeks that he'd seen the depth of Neroon's surprise. "Left the Anla'Shok?" Neroon asked. "Why?" Marcus shifted his weight uncomfortably. Abruptly, Neroon became aware that they were still standing in the entry hall and that Marcus was still supporting his bag on one shoulder. He guided Marcus into his sitting room and showed him to a couch. The human sat, watching Neroon with an odd intensity as he took a seat in a second couch, set at an angle to the first. "I don't know if you know this," Marcus began, laying his bag down at his feet, "but it was never my calling to join the Rangers. It was my brother's. When he died, his last request was for me to finish what he had started: the fight against the Shadows." "I did not know that," Neroon murmured. "You did not seem anything less than wholly committed to the cause." "I was wholly committed. Despite my reasons for joining, it didn't take me long to see the complete necessity of the work William was doing." Marcus smiled, but there was a bitter edge to it. "The destruction of my home by the Shadows certainly gave that understanding a jump start." Neroon couldn't help feeling a quiet hint of shame at Marcus's words. It had taken the Warrior Caste so long to see the danger that they had all but missed the war entirely. "It does you credit," he said to Marcus, "that when you saw the threat, you acted swiftly, and with certainty." Marcus snorted softly to himself. "There was nothing else for me to do," he argued. "I was second in command of Arisia, working alongside my father. When the colony was destroyed...there were virtually no survivors. Myself, a handful of others, that was all. My family was gone. All I had left was my promise to William." He trailed off, perhaps lost in memory, and perhaps simply wondering why he was sharing all of this with a Minbari he had met only once. Neroon searched for appropriate words and found only the truth. "Then I owe your brother a debt of gratitude," Neroon said gravely, "for setting your path to cross mine." "You don't want to owe William anything," Marcus shook his head and laughed a little. "He'll end up taking everything you have in payment." "As he has from you?" Neroon inquired softly. The Human did not deny it. "Have you not gained anything from the Anla'Shok?" "Knowledge, skills," Marcus said, his tone dismissive. "Not the things that matter, in the end. I'm thirty-nine years old and I haven't any understanding of my own calling or my own heart." He looked up at Neroon. There was something in the back of his eyes that looked lost. "I've lived someone else's life and put my own on hold." Something things were beginning to come clear. "You left the Anla'Shok to find your true calling," Neroon stated. And this had brought him to Neroon's door? Still, there was an odd sort of symmetry to it, he supposed. Marcus came to him first seeking his death, and now he came seeking his life. "Yes," the Human confirmed. "Delenn says that she will hold a place for me, if my path should bring me back to them." He smiled again, but this time it was a true smile. "I suppose that's one thing I didn't have before. Somewhere to fall back to." "And friends to stand at your back," Neroon suggested. He should know. His short stay on Babylon 5 after the denn'sha has been filled with the angry glances of Marcus' friends. Marcus himself was the only one who had forgiven him for their encounter. Marcus nodded. "And you're wondering why I didn't go to them," he said, raising an eyebrow. Neroon inclined his head, conceding the point. "Denn'sha forced you to reevaluate everything you knew about Humans, and about yourself. Who better to help out with a little self-discovery than someone who's done it themselves?" Marcus paused. "And, ah, you said, afterwards, perhaps we are of the same heart. You saw something in me, understood something in me, that I'm not sure I see in myself." Slowly, Neroon smiled. He had to suppress the impulse to laugh, not at Marcus, but at the way their lives seemed to have run parallel since their first meeting. Tension visibly left Marcus' posture as he absorbed his host's good humor. "You have excellent timing, Marcus," Neroon commented. "As it happens, I am in the midst of making some similar decisions about my life." "But you have your calling," Marcus said, surprised. "There is more than one way to be a Warrior," Neroon said dryly. "I have served aboard ships for most of my life. I am now...reconsidering that choice." "Why?" Neroon considered brushing the question aside. Gently, for Marcus could not know how personal it was. But as he drew the words together, he looked into the Human's eyes and found a quiet, familiar hunger there. Neroon had felt that same desperate desire for home, for a connection, for a path to set one's feet upon. When he'd said they were of the same heart, he'd meant Minbari and Humans. Perhaps he'd spoken more truly than he'd known. Perhaps he'd also meant this Human...and himself. "Even a large ship like the Ingata," he found himself saying, "with a crew of hundreds, is a small community. It is also a carefully ordered community, full of rules and guidelines and traditions. In such an environment, it is easy to allow your thoughts to grow narrow." Neroon's lips thinned briefly, a trace of anger pricking him. He had become weak, allowed himself to follow a path for no other reason than that it was easier. "I believe it was this narrowing of my own thoughts that eventually set me against Delenn." "Shakiri set you against Delenn," Marcus contradicted him, but Neroon was shaking his head before Marcus had even finished. "Shakiri gave the order," he said, "but I followed it. It's is a Warrior's duty to disobey orders which dishonor the clan." "I'm beginning to see that Humanity came even closer to being wiped out than we thought," Marcus murmured. Neroon understood at once. It had, after all, been only orders which had stopped the Minbari fleet from destroying Humanity entirely at the end of the war. They were quiet for a moment, thoughts bound up in the past. Eventually Neroon shook off his own memories and stood, gesturing for Marcus to the same. "Come, Marcus. Let me show you my home." The Human blinked up at him for a moment before standing. "Why?" he asked, leaning down to pick up his bag. Neroon took it from his hand and set it back down. "Because you should know it, if you are going to be staying here," he said calmly, turning to begin an impromptu tour. To Marcus' credit, he was at Neroon's shoulder after only a momentary hesitation. *** By the time he and Neroon sat down for the evening meal together, Marcus felt as though he'd been a welcome guest in the Warrior's home for years. He knew it was strange to be so much as ease in the Minbari's presence, in his personal space, after so short a time and with such history between them, but he couldn't seem to help it. During Ranger training the few friends he'd had had told him occasionally about what it was like to meet someone--a friend, a lover, a mentor--and feel an immediate and complete comfort with them. Marcus had thought such stories were just fairytales, like love at first sight. But with Neroon, a Minbari who had come within inches of killing him, the connection was there. It was real. The more time he spent in Neroon's company, the more certain he felt about his choice in coming here. It was the first decision he'd made for himself and every moment only reassured him that it was the right one. Dinner was quiet, where most of the day had been filled with conversation. Like Humans, Minbari had a variety of eating implements. Neroon favored a set unlike any Marcus had seen before, which made sense, he supposed. Marcus had only ever dined with members of the Religious Caste. He found himself watching Neroon's hands initially, sipping at his drink until he picked up the trick of using the utensils. They were much like chopsticks, but one bore a wicked edge near the tip and the other was bent midway so that the two came together for a finger length or so, rather than just at the tip. Neroon's hands curved around the two slender sticks almost delicately. His touch seemed light, but his grip on each morsel of food never wavered for a moment. Following the movement of his hand to his mouth, Marcus noted that the edged implement never actually touched Neroon's mouth. The Minbari merely relaxed his touch and the bite fell neatly from stick to tongue. Suddenly aware that he was staring, Marcus dropped his gaze to his plate, found down a blush, and carefully took up his own utensils. His memory of Neroon was of strength and power. He'd never imagined this delicacy, this precision of movement. Watching him eat was somehow...sensual. Marcus focused his attention on feeding himself without cutting his lips on the sharp edge of the one stick. Still, he found himself looking across the table at his companion frequently, noting the slight depression in Neroon's lip as the bent utensil touched it, the curve of his throat as he swallowed, the line of wrist and forearm exposed when he reached across the table for something. Neroon was powerful, Marcus decided as they settled back in their chairs and sipped after dinner tea, but he was also something oddly inviting about him. When he was relaxed, anyway. Watching him eat made Marcus want to see him performing a kata. Minus the armor. And the layered robes. Did the Minbari even have the equivalent of sweatpants? At that moment, something prompted him to refocus his attention and meet Neroon's gaze. The twinkle there seemed to spring directly from his own thoughts. Heat washed his cheeks, the blush Marcus had suppressed earlier returning with a vengeance. He opened his mouth to apologize, then closed it when he remembered he had nothing to apologize for. "What are you thinking?" Neroon asked, his voice warm with amusement. Marcus couldn't help the way his lips twitched in response. "I was wondering if Minbari ever wear fewer than three layers of clothing," he confessed. "Of course, there was a time when I'd never seen a Minbari wear anything but robes." Neroon chuckled. "I assure you, we have as wide a variety of fashion as Humans do." His eyes shone with a teasing light. "Perhaps you should find someone to model for you." At that, Marcus' amusement bubbled over into laughter. "Who?" he asked, shaking his head. "Who could I possibly ask to do something like that?" "An old friend," Neroon suggested. "You trained here on Minbar. Perhaps an old lover?" "No," Marcus said, turning his cup in his hands. "I was too focused on my training to have any time for lovers. My mind was on the Shadows--not exactly conducive to a romantic mood." Neroon frowned and leaned forward, his own tea gripped in both hands. "Do you mean to tell me that you have not had a lover since you became a Ranger?" "Ah, no," Marcus replied, looking down into his mug, rubbing a finger along the rim of it. "I've never had a lover." A soft ah was Neroon's response. After a long, quiet moment he ventured a question. "Is that...usual, for humans?" His tone expressed doubt. "No," Marcus said simply. He didn't try to explain. To be honest, he'd never really understood himself. He'd never made a conscious decision to wait. He tried courting a few women who'd sparked his interest. Susan Ivanova hadn't been the first person he'd pursued, just the latest. Somehow, nothing ever seemed to come of it. The time will come, he'd told him. The right moment would present itself and everything would fall into place. Eventually. After the two of them finished their tea, Neroon showed Marcus to a guest room and returned to his study, presumably to finish whatever task Marcus had interrupted with his arrival. Later, sitting up in bed, one finger holding his place in his book, Marcus leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. Faintly, he could hear clinking sounds as Neroon performed some task in his kitchen. The sounds ceased with the quiet thump of cupboards closing and were followed by the almost silent padding of feet down the hall. The master bedroom was just across the hall from Marcus, but it was very well insulated. It was only Marcus' imagination which brought him the sounds of Neroon undressing for bed, slipping into his nightclothes, and settling back against the sleeping platform. How did Minbari make love? Marcus wondered, flushing with embarrassment for all that he was alone. Surely they didn't try to stay balanced on those narrow platforms, with gravity threatening to pull them to the floor at any moment. Firmly, Marcus set aside his book and stretched out on the platform that he'd rigged horizontal for his own use. He was a guest in Neroon's home. The least he could do was have a little respect. *** The quiet hiss of his bedroom door sliding open woke Neroon from the very first stages of sleep. He turned onto his back and found Marcus silhouetted in the doorway. The hall was dark, but the windows of Neroon's bedroom let in a wash of moonlight. The pale light turned Marcus into a black and white study of himself. "Marcus?" Neroon asked. "Is something wrong?" "No," Marcus breathed, but Neroon could see the tension in his frame. He was like an animal, poised to bolt for safety at any moment. Something in Neroon ached to reach out, to gentle him with a touch to the soft fall of hair, a palm curved around his trembling hip. Marcus was a warrior, Neroon reminded himself, no more in need of coddling than he was himself. Not coddling, but perhaps he did need to be touched. How long had it been since this man had felt more than the weight of a friendly hand on his shoulder? "Come here," Neroon invited, holding out his hand. The Human crossed the room at once, allowing the door to slide closed behind him, and took Neroon's hand with no hesitation at all. "I'm tired of waiting," he said quietly, tugging at Neroon's hand to prompt him to stand up. "I'm tired of looking for the perfect moment. I've had enough of trying to pick the right person. I want to be here. I want to be with you." Marcus took a deep breath. "I want you." Neroon stood and put one arm around the Human's waist. "I would be honored to be your first," he answered, drawing the lean body tight against his own. Marcus let out a soft gasp, as if he'd never even been held at all. Perhaps he hadn't been. The thought stirred heat deep in Neroon, even more primal than the warmth sparked by the quick easy grace Marcus displayed simply by moving. He'd never imagined feeling desire for a Human. He'd never imagined feeling respect for one, either. Marcus inspired both feelings, to such a degree that Neroon knew that this could not be a mere favor done for one warrior by another. He wanted to touch Marcus, to see him respond, and to know that they made these discoveries together, to the exclusion of all others. Neroon knew he had a few discoveries of his own to make. He'd never known he could be so jealous, either. "Kiss me," Marcus murmured, capturing Neroon's gaze with his own. Neroon obliged. *** The first thing Marcus became aware of as he woke was the heavy weight of an arm draped over his waist and firm, thick fingers splayed over his belly. The second thing he became aware of was that he was curled up right on the edge of a tilted Minbari sleeping platform. Last of all he registered the ache of his body and the solid heat of the Minbari spooned closely against his back. His lover. Marcus' lips curved into a broad smile. Neroon had touched him...everywhere. He had been at once demanding and gentle, eager and patient, sweet and so achingly hungry. Marcus had been almost nauseous with fear when he'd stepped into the Minbari's rooms, but Neroon had carefully unwound his knotted muscles and shown him how incredibly, impossibly good he could feel. Marcus couldn't imagine having another lover for his first time. Hell, he couldn't imagine having another lover at all. Suddenly the fear was back. He and Neroon had made no promises the night before. He hadn't even known he'd wanted promises. Should he even still be here? Marcus wondered. The arm wrapped around his waist was a good sign, but-- "Stop panicking." Neroon's voice was thick with sleep. He gave Marcus a one armed hug and brushed his lips over the back of one shoulder. "How did you know?" Neroon's chuckle brushed warm air over the nape of Marcus' neck. "Everyone panics the morning after their first," he said. "Neroon, last night, we never said what we wanted..." Marcus trailed off uncertainly. "I want you to stay," Neroon responded firmly. He stroked Marcus' belly softly with his fingers. "And be your lover?" "Yes." Never let it be said that Neroon of the Star Riders didn't know what he wanted. Marcus smiled to himself and relaxed back against the body that cradled him. "Good. Me too." |