by Fleur Le Marc
80411.21
Concurrent with When I See an Elephant Fly
Soundtracl: Hymne a l'Amor, Edith Piaf
-=Deck 8, USS Serendipity=-
80411.21
Concurrent with When I See an Elephant Fly
Soundtracl: Hymne a l'Amor, Edith Piaf
-=Deck 8, USS Serendipity=-
*This may be the single stupidest thing I have ever done in my life.*
The thought haunted Fleur even as she made her way through the Arboretum now, looking for him.
She told herself a hundred times that she should turn back. Change course, and stop listening to phantom voices who tried to pull her strings from the great beyond.
The Prophets had offered her nothing tangible to believe in, nothing aside from tortured dreams, enticing visions and a sense that somehow, she was important to his life, after all.
She should forget this whole thing, but somehow, she couldn't seem to stop the progress of her feet. The events of the day before drove her forward, not allowing her the option of retreat.
She'd been having the visions again. Waking daymares, she'd come to think of them as, during which she was not quite unconscious but not fully lucid, either. She had asked them again how long she must wait, how to reach him, what to do.
They had again simply replied that she was where she needed to be and told her to be patient. Then, by demonstrating in her mind a space of physical distance between the image of Jariel and the image of the woman who held his soul in bondage, with Fleur positioned directly between, they illustrated that she was just the wedge they wanted to continue driving between the Vedek and Zanh Liis.
*A few more swings of the axe, she thought. . .and perhaps. . .* During the timespan of the vision, she had once again been hopeful.
*Who am I kidding?*
She rebuked herself after the vision had ended. *He is never going to leave her.*
She had prayed, in her uncertain, make-it-up-as-you-go-along fashion. Lowering herself to her knees, she asked them for a sign. Any sign, no matter how small, as to which way she was to turn now. Some direction to take that would allow her to become closer to Camen, as he seemed to be slipping further away from her with each passing day.
Then, she had left her quarters, and stepped into a turbolift.
What she saw in that turbolift had angered her at first, as she thought it was some kind of cruel joke. Then she heard whispered talk around the cafe in the hours that followed, about a secret mission that had caused Lair to abandon her nose ridges temporarily, and Cristiane to take some on. That was when she realized- Dane had been her sign.
She knew exactly what she needed to do to become closer to the Vedek- the one thing that Zanh Liis was unwilling to do.
She had to embrace his Prophets completely- with open arms, and a willing heart.
She saw Camen now in the distance. He was kneeling in the gazebo, and he seemed to be working on the swing where he so often sat with. . .her.
He startled as she greeted him, having no idea that anyone was approaching.
"Bon jour, Monsieur le Vedek." She said softly. Gone was any of the hopeful self-assurance that she had displayed the other night at the party when she had boldly asked him to walk her home- and he had run quickly in the opposite direction.
[[Hello,]] Camen signed. He had a gut instinct that he should skip the pleasantries and ask her exactly what she was after. [[Is there something I can do for you today, Miss Le Marc?]]
*Marry me, for a start.* Fleur thought.
"Yes, sir. I wanted to ask you for your help with something. . ." She watched as he picked up a small tool and began tightening the bolts which secured the chains of the swing to its frame. "May I assist you with this?"
[[No thank you. I'm almost done, and then I have an appointment, so I'm sorry I haven't much time to talk.]] The former was true, the latter, a bit of a stretch. His first obligation of duty was over an hour away, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell her that.
Once he was finished tightening the bolts, he rose. She asked him with her eyes if she could sit, and he sighed softly before nodding.
*She's very keen on putting herself in Liis' place. . .* Camen thought, very correctly. Perhaps his vision about her had been a warning. . .
Fleur plunked down onto the swing and smiled contentedly. She patted the seat next to her, and he once again looked like he wanted to run. "Sit for a moment so we may talk?" she asked. "Please?"
[[I really have to-]] He began, but the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance signaled the warning that the morning irrigation cycle, which was designed to duplicate natural rainfall in this amazingly elaborate garden space, was about to begin.
"You can't run off now," she teased him. "You'll get soaked. Better to wait the cycle out, and then go. Just a few moments, yes? What harm can it do?"
*More than I'm willing to risk by sitting next to you.* Camen thought.
The rain began to pour down, and Camen seriously considered making a dash for the door. But once again, his inborn aversion to ever appearing rude to anyone for any reason poked at him, and he remained where he was. He did not sit down on the swing, but he didn't leave, either.
[[You said that you needed my help. With what?]] He redirected her attention as best he could back on topic.
"I have been called by the Prophets," Fleur stated clearly.
A flash in his eyes told her that he either believed her completely, or was horribly offended by the idea. She couldn't, at this point, ascertain which.
"Please, listen for a moment. Ever since the trip back to Earth from Bajor following your heroic rescue of the Captain, I have been having. . ." she paused, ". . .for want of a better term, I have to call them visions. But they are so much more than that."
*Uh oh.* Camen thought. *You're not the only one.*
He began gathering up the various gardening tools he'd worked with and set aside this morning, trying to keep himself busy. He lined them up in a neat row against the railing of the gazebo, in the order he would put them back into the supply shed in as soon as the rainfall subsided. [[Go on.]]
"Well, they have left me with many questions. But all I can imagine at the end of if all, and in light of our many talks about philosophy and religion in the years I have known you, Vedek Jariel, is that the Prophets mean for me to begin my life anew in the faith of your people."
Camen dropped his spade.
[[You're asking me-]] he began, but he couldn't think to sign.
[[To assist in my full conversion.]] She signed back.
Camen's mouth hung open as the sound of the rain beating against the roof of the gazebo combined with the exaggerated thumping of his heart. The noises congealed and mutated into a ringing in his head that made him dizzy.
"Vedek Jariel?" She was worried by his reaction, more to the point, the lack of it. She jumped up from the swing, and she was suddenly beside him. Her hand grasped the sleeve of his shirt.
"Please, do not turn me away. If you do, where am I to go?"
Before the Vedek could answer, the ringing in his ears cleared, revealing the joyful sound of footsteps approaching. An accompanying voice was humming a happy tune, and he looked up. Camen heaved a heavy sigh of relief- he had never been so glad to see February Grace in his life.
Knowing the rain cycle would be going at this time, she stood before them in bright pink raincoat and galoshes, holding a large yellow umbrella over her head. "Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."
[[You're not!]] Camen signed excitedly. [[Please, please, join us! Have a seat. On the swing!]]
Fleur's expression was now flatter than a fallen soufflé. "Yes. By all means." She added tonelessly. "Join us." She glanced expectantly at the Vedek, still awaiting his response.
[[I must pray over your request, Fleur. Give me a few days, and I will tell you what I feel the best next step will be. All right?]]
This was not the response that Fleur had counted upon. "All right." She was suddenly in a rush to get out of here. She diverted her attention from Grace's curious eyes. "If you'll excuse me, both of you. I have work to do. Good day." She stepped down from the gazebo and into the falling precipitation.
"Want to borrow my umbrell. . .I guess not." Bru held the umbrella out, but Fleur was already gone. "She was in a hurry to get somewhere."
*You have no idea.* Camen thought. Realizing he was safe now, his legs seemed to go weak and he plunked down onto the swing beside Bru. He smiled at her, reached out and squeezed her hand once.
[[I am very happy to see you today. How are you feeling?]]
"I'm feeling well, thank you." February began, then she hesitated. Maybe now was not the time for this. Still, she kept hearing Rigin's written words resonating in her mind, telling her to honor the hosts who came before. She had never done that properly for the host who had lived the shortest life of all. No one had, and she felt it was long since past time.
[[What it is, little angel?]] He asked gently.
"If you have a minute, I was hoping to speak with you," she gathered her courage, and took a deep breath. "About Wen Grace."
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Fleur Le Marc
Cafe Manager/Chef and Usurper
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
Fleur Le Marc
Cafe Manager/Chef and Usurper
USS Serendipity NCC-2012