640: Written for Her


by Jariel Camen
81102.1700
After Revealed: Two

-=Takesian Plains, Bajor=-


The idea of eating Fleur's homemade soup, after so many days of eating so little, was indescribably wonderful.

He looked forward to savoring every bite of fresh cooked vegetables that would warm his body as well as his soul. There was something so different about food that was prepared with love as opposed to assembled by a lifeless replicator.

He had watched her prepare the food, taking note of every step in the process. Camen could tell she was tired but she pressed on, peeling and washing until the large pot was full to the brim with ingredients. She set the lid on top of the pot, and adjusted the heat to create a slow boil.

“How long?” Camen asked.

“At least four hours, to properly cook. Would you like something in the meantime?”

The fever had broken, but his exhaustion from the ordeal left him still feeling very much delirious and dizzy. He was on the down slope of the event but by no means yet healthy or completely coherent.

Camen was, however, feeling hungry. His strength was down, and his body was commanding him to eat. Still, he very much wished to save the bulk of his appetite for the soup later.

“Nothing special, do we have any hot cereal? That will tide me over while the soup cooks.”

Fleur nodded, and filled a small pan with water to boil.

“After you eat, you will rest more until the soup is ready, eh? Just because the fever broke does not mean you can be up and about all day.”

“Of course, Fleur.” The longer out of bed, the more his body told him that he still had much recovering to do.

She added the hot cereal mix to the now boiling water, mixed it to the proper consistency, and portioned out a bowl for herself and Camen.

“Sugar?” She asked, even as she was already measuring out a heaping tablespoon from the canister, knowing the answer. Camen simply smiled and let her add the sugar to his bowl without even answering.

“Thank you so much.” He said gratefully, as he took the bowl and began to eat.

“It is nothing at all, two minutes to cook.”

“It is everything, because you took the time to do it for me.”

She blushed, and ate her own bowl while leaning against the counter, keeping a constant eye of the soup lest it boil too fast and spill over onto the oven.

“So, I know you were very young.” She began, with her eyes cast down to the floor. “But do you remember anything more of your parents?”

“I remember the night vividly, when the Cardassians found us, and took us away. My father was a true guardian. He did not say much but when he had something to say, everyone listened. My mother, she was beautiful beyond words, it was no wonder why he adored her so.

“I was still far to young to hear the stories of how they met or when they decided to marry. I do remember a photograph of the two of them, on their wedding day. They were in civilian clothing. No Bajorans in those days had grand weddings. There was simply no place to even find a dress with the Cardassians in charge. It was just the two of them and a local Prylar to perform the ceremony. The photo was crumpled and torn but each of them carried one everywhere, as we were always on the move.

“When mother and father went to a lake or stream to wash off, I’d sneak the photo out of the pockets of their clothes and look at them. I just remember how happy they looked, to be married. Even though they had no guests, no formal ceremony, and no temple around them where to Prophets could watch over them. It made me sad to see them that way, because I never got to see the joy on their faces that was in that photo.

Fleur slowly stirred her food, listening intently to his every work.

“It was not that they weren’t very much in love, they were, it was that the constant vigilance required to keep us away from the Cardassians wore them down. I suppose in a lot of ways I blamed myself for the burden that was on them, to protect my sister and I. I considered running away many times, hoping it may be easier for them to feed only Relanna instead of both of us. All it took was a raid by Cardassian soldiers on our village to make me realize I could never make it on my own.

“Did you manage to save any of the photographs?” Fleur asked. She would have loved to see the wedding picture of the man and woman that brought such a beautiful child into the world.

“No, but.” Camen set his empty bowl down on the counter, and rubbed his head “The Cardassians never.” He paused, looking for the right word, but there was none.

“They never buried their victims clothed. They kept clothing to distribute to the slave labor, since it was cheaper than providing it themselves. So perhaps, somewhere out there, some Bajoran found one of those photos crumpled up in their pocket.”

Camen shrugged, “But they probably would have just thrown it away.”

He felt himself becoming increasingly dizzy again, and Fleur set the back of her hand on his forehead.

“Ah, see, you are getting warm again. The Doctor warned me you would need much rest after the fever broke or you would not recover. Come, you have been up too long. I will awaken you when the soup is prepared.”

Camen did not argue. As lightheaded as he felt, he knew sleep was all he was up for at the moment, though he could have watched and listened to Fleur all day and night if she would have let him.

He lay back down on the cot, and pulled the blankets up tight. Fleur tucked in the sides around him.

“I must keep an eye on the soup, no? But I will be back and forth, you will never be alone more than a few moments.”

"You can't just stare at me all day, how will you occupy yourself?"

*Oh, but I can. * Fleur thought. “Vedek Delle left me some books with the soup ingredients, I will have plenty to do.”

“Ok.” Camen reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Fleur, thank you so much, for being here with me.”

His hand on her body sent bolts of electricity through her. “Of course, Camen.” He released her, and it was all she could not to simply wilt down onto the cot with him.

Instead she returned to the soup, to check on the pot and stir it. She found a book on Bajoran prophesies amongst the reading material Delle had left for her.

Returning to Camen’s side, she began reading. He was already asleep, and still mumbling. For an hour she read until it was time to stir the soup again.

She set the book down, and walked back into the kitchen. The soup was coming along well, and she could not wait to serve it to him when it was ready.

“Paper.” Camen’s labored voice came from the other room. She set the lid back down and hurried back to his side.

He was not awake, but rather tossing and mumbling in a haze.

“Paper.” He said again, “and pen. I have to tell her.”

“All right, just a moment.” She found what he was looking for and handed it to him. His eyes opened, but did not totally focus on her. He was still in the netherworld between being awake and being asleep.

Camen took the paper and pen, and rolled to the side, away from Fleur. He began to write furiously, as Fleur sat back down across the room from him.

Fleur,

I just had to write you. I’m not well, but I’m getting better.

I wish you had my perspective. I wish you could see and feel the way you made me feel in another time, when we were husband and wife, and believe that I want you to make me feel that way now. How easy it would be to settle right back into that life we shared.

But, how much I enjoy the idea of wooing you as you deserve to be. In a certain way I envy that you don’t remember any of it. I envy that when I finally take you into my arms and kiss you, it will be the first time you will ever know the warmth of my touch and my embrace.

For a moment I thought perhaps I would want this fever to take away the memories I have of holding you. Not because I didn’t cherish them, but because when we are finally together in this life, I want to learn about you all over again.

Then I realized, when, and if, I am fortunate enough to have you let me into your heart, that it all will truly be new. I have never been with the woman you are, and you have never been with the man I am.


There is a fever in me
That occupies my thoughts

I hear your voice
And know what I need

I will show you
All I am is yours

The fever will not break
Until you hold my heart

~Jariel Camen


He folded up the letter, and scribbled Fleur’s name on the outside.

“Please.” He mumbled. “Give this to Vedek Delle, she knows who it is for.” Fleur nodded, and read her own name on the outside of the letter. She paused to ask Camen what it meant, but he was already asleep once again.

Fleur brought the letter to the kitchen, and set it down on the table. She could not imagine, in his delirious state, what he could have possibly written.

She sat at the table staring at the paper, knowing whatever he had written came directly from his dreams at the center of his soul. It was unedited and untainted by the filters we put on our thoughts when we speak to others.

An hour past, with Fleur simply staring at the folded piece of paper in front of her. The soup was half done now, and in a few hours she would need to wake him to feed him.

When he woke up would he even remember writing this? Would he think it was a dream? Would he be upset if he found out she didn’t read it? Or would he be embarrassed to find out what he thought was a dream was real?

Without another thought, she reached out, grabbed the paper, and unfolded it.

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Jariel Camen
On Bajor