To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive

Finally, I'm getting around to finishing some B5 fics I've been meaning to complete for more than a year!

I'll admit, in large part this was written to address a particular quote from "Into the Fire" that's always annoyed me. You'll know it when you see it. :)

Title: Epithalamion
Rating: G
Word Count: 1200
Characters and Pairings: Susan & Delenn friendship, Susan/Michael
Timeline: December 2263
Summary: On the day of Susan's wedding, she and Delenn have a chat.



Half an hour before she got married, Susan Ivanova retreated to a small conference room to escape the crowd of well-wishers in the observation deck. She was touched and flattered that so many people on the station wanted to be there when she and Michael tied the knot, but all of them together was overwhelming, and she just needed a few minutes to herself.

She leaned against a wall, wishing time would magically jump ahead by an hour or two. All this fuss was maddening—she wanted to just be married already.

"Here you are," a soft voice said, interrupting her thoughts. She turned to find Delenn approaching her, resplendent in formal red robes. "Are you trying to get away from everyone?"

"Yes," she admitted, "but you're always welcome." Delenn's very presence could have a calming effect when she wanted it to, and Susan hoped her friend could help her now. "You and John had the right idea: Get married in hyperspace on a ship that only accommodates a few other people rather than in front of half the station."

Delenn smiled at her. "Perhaps it will not be as bad as it seems." The smile turned mischievous. "Alternatively, you still have time to elope."

The image of Delenn, of all people, suggesting that she skip out on a ceremony and leave the crowd of people thirty feet away completely in the lurch was so at odds with the other woman's usual reverence for ritual that Susan had to laugh. Delenn joined her, and she was reminded how beautiful Delenn's musical laugh was, and how much she'd missed hearing it since her friends had moved to Minbar.

When their mirth had run its course, Delenn unfolded her hand and held out a pretty little flower, about half the size of her palm. It had six cream-colored petals arranged flat and daffodil-like around a deep crimson center. "This is for you. It's a solla flower." She handed it to Susan, who held it carefully by the long, thin stem. The petals were soft, like silk or spiderwebs. "We do not have a marriage ceremony exactly like yours, but when two Minbari pledge themselves to each other in the presence of their clans, females traditionally attach one to their clothing. You might call it a good luck charm."

"Thank you," Susan said, touched by the gesture. Bringing this all the way from Minbar must have required some careful packing. She looked down at her dress grays, unsure exactly where the distinctly non-regulation flower might go.

"I thought perhaps for your hair," Delenn said. This morning, Susan had woven her hair into an intricate French braid. It would fit nicely into one of the twists along her scalp.

"Let me help you," Delenn said, holding her hand out for the flower. "In some small measure, it will allow me to repay a favor."

Susan smiled at the memory. She'd been thoroughly embarrassed when Delenn had asked for instruction in the basics of human hygiene, but those few hours had transformed them from colleagues to friends, and in the end, she'd been glad for Delenn's insistence.

Now Delenn took a few steps so that she stood behind her. Susan felt her friend's fingers in her hair, tucking the flower in where the strands crossed each other, twisting it slightly so that the petals would lay flat against her head. She reached up to touch the flower. "Good luck charm, huh?" she asked, turning to face Delenn.

"That's the closest analogy. These plants are some of the longest-lived organisms on our planet. Specimens have been found that are over two thousand years old. Wearing one signifies the hope that the union will be similarly long-lived."

The explanation sparked a memory, and lost in thought, Susan almost didn't hear Delenn say her name. "Hmm? Sorry, you just reminded me of something Lorien said."

At Delenn's inquiring look, she said, "It was right before Corianna 6. I don't remember the exact words, but he said that his people had lived too long to see love as anything but momentary, and that only those of us who aren't immortal can believe it lasts forever. He told me that I should embrace that remarkable illusion, because it was the greatest gift we had ever received." Her voice canted upward in confusion as she finished relating Lorien's advice. She hadn't known what to make of his words at the time, and even some four years later, she still found them puzzling.

Delenn's brow furrowed as she gave Susan's statement her characteristic attention. Finally, she said, "I cannot claim the length of Lorien's experience, and so perhaps in my ignorance, I am overlooking critical information. But if one knows that something is an illusion, how can one possibly embrace it as truth?"

She had been wondering the same thing, though in all the tumult of those days surrounding the crucible of Corianna 6, she'd never had the opportunity to press the alien for an explanation.

Delenn grasped her hand. Her gaze, always penetrating, seemed more piercing than ever. "And Susan, I do not believe you would ever prefer the most beautiful illusion over the truth."

Her friend was right on that count, Susan thought. She'd never accepted anything with a sugar coating, never allowed herself to be lied to even when she desperately wanted to believe a falsehood. From an early age, life had taught her that everything ended sooner or later. Why should love be any different?

"But here is a truth," Delenn continued. "Solla plants live for thousands of years. And there are marriages on my world and yours that have lasted the lifetimes of their partners. You and Michael love each other enough to promise yourselves to each other for as long as you live. Are these truths not just as remarkable?"

A weight Susan didn't even know she had been carrying seemed to lift from her shoulders. "Well," she said, "when you put it that way..."

Delenn smiled, then hugged her, mindful of the wrinkles it could cause their wedding finery. Susan returned the hug, less carefully.

"Are you feeling more at ease?" Delenn asked when she pulled away.

"Yes. Thank you, Delenn."

A knock sounded on the half-shut door, and then John poked his head in. At the sight of Susan in her dress grays, he gave her a proud, happy grin, before his gaze softened to something rather less paternal as he took in his wife. Sorrow flickered through Susan. She knew her friends could only wish for John to live long enough that love's waning might ever present a problem.

"Susan, are you ready?" John asked.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the crowd outside. "Yep."

"No last minute changes of heart?" he teased.

She shook her head. "I have no illusions about what I'm getting myself into."

Delenn sent John a look that apparently meant she would explain later, and Susan led them out the door.