by Jariel Camen
81004.1800
…continued from part one...
“Using a straight blade, he shaved himself smooth, slapped each cheek with satisfaction, and tossed the towel aside to dress. He stood before the mirror, regarding his reflection…”
-=Flashback, Alternate Timeline, Paris. France=-
81004.1800
…continued from part one...
“Using a straight blade, he shaved himself smooth, slapped each cheek with satisfaction, and tossed the towel aside to dress. He stood before the mirror, regarding his reflection…”
-=Flashback, Alternate Timeline, Paris. France=-
Camen did as he always did during their trips to Paris. As Fleur checked on her Patisserie near the Eiffel Tower along the Avenue de La Bourdonnais, he walked alone to the tower, and down the ramp to the banks of the Seine where the ferry boats dropped off their passengers.
He would spend not a few days, but the whole summer here, finally free from the constant responsibilities associated with being the Kai. In Paris he was but a man, as he wished it. At least here they had to contact him by subspace if they needed him, as opposed to intruding on his home in the Central City.
Together here he and Fleur were but two lovers among millions. The atmosphere filled his soul with pleasure. The smell of fresh cooked food and music reverberating down cobble stone streets and between ancient buildings filled his senses with a life the Kai simply did not have on Bajor. Everywhere one look people of all ages held hands, kissed, and laughed. He was free to be another lover here, not a politician.
During past visits Fleur had used her influence to acquire prime real estate in the shadow of the tower, to establish her business. She turned no profit, asking only for patrons to pay to cover the overhead so she could employ the twenty people that worked in her bakery. Camen had offered to supplement her establishment with funds from the Kai’s personal budget, but she had refused, insisting nothing be taken from the people of Bajor for her sake.
The Patisserie served hundreds each day and talk of a massive expansion was already in the works. Fleur was prepared to increase her workforce from twenty to one hundred. Camen knew she missed the place when she was on Bajor, and relished these trips for the chance to work beside her fellow boulanger.
Camen dropped to his knees at the edge of the river, and regarded his reflection in the choppy waves below. He looked as he always did upon arrival to this place. Tired, weary, but relieved. Things were so simple here with her, in their loft above the Patisserie.
“Alors, c'est ici où tu vas?” (So this is where you go?) Her voice behind him caught him by surprise, as he knelt still at the rivers edge.
“J'aime bien les lumières, regarde comme ils refléts sur la riviére.” (I love the lights, look how the reflect in the river.) Camen answered, his French was still a bit clumsy, but suited her just the same.
“This is where I come to see the stress of being the Kai wash away in the Seine.” He looked out across the river, as Fleur sat down behind him, and wrapped her arms around him.
“Et c'est où je dois vous partager sans d'autres.” (And this is where I must share you with no others.) Fleur said, referring to the ambassadors and dignitaries who had his ear so much of the time. She was so proud of him and his work, and supported him with all her heart. Still, she was glad there was time to be alone, like this.
“Come, my Camen.” She asked. They rose to their feet, and at the rivers edge he kissed her deeply.
“The spirit of this place is not lost on you, I see.” She observed. Taking his hand, they strolled the streets till they arrived at the Patisserie. There was no name; the sign simply read “Patisserie.” It was simple and quaint.
The day was drawing near an end, but many patrons still filled the black wrought iron tables inside and out on the sidewalk. The nursed their coffee and the last of the pastry of the day, as the staff already busied themselves preparing the batches of dough that would, early tomorrow morning, become the next day’s fare.
“Monsieur Kai,” She whispered, “The tables, s'il vous plait.” She handed him a bottle of cleaner, a dry towel, and a bin to collect left over dishes in. Fleur never quite understood why he loved to bus the tables in the evening when he was here, but she didn’t resist him. Camen tied on an apron, took her supplies, and set about wiping down the tables.
A kindly old man tucked a strip of latinum into the pocket of Camen’s apron. He thanked the man, and upon the customers departure, dropped the strip into the tip jar for Fleur’s employees.
She watched him work, and the same debate raged inside of her. Whether he looked better with his arms bare, wearing a white apron over a black shirt and cleaning, or cloaked in the robes of the Kai. “Which tastes better, the croissant with butter or with jelly? Best to have one of each and save the debate of the politicians.” She said to herself.
As the night grew to a close, the last of the patrons gathered up their things and cleared out. Camen assisted Fleur and her people with beginning the mixtures for tomorrow morning’s baking, and placing them in the refrigerator for the overnight. She dismissed the last of her staff, and washed the raw dough from her hands in the sink, before using the electromagnetic sterilizer. One of the few pieces of modern technology Fleur allowed in her establishment.
“Is there anything else you require before I am dismissed as well?” Camen asked, with a grin.
“Just tell me you love me.”
“Of course Fleur, I love you.”
“Then, Monsieur Jariel, you are free to do as you wish for the remainder of the evening.”
He took her hand, and walked her to the small door, at the rear of the bakery, that led to the loft above. They walked single file, up the narrow wooden steps that creaked beneath their feet. Camen flipped on the light, as Fleur stepped around the bed and opened the shutters that covered the tiny window. She latched them open, giving them a view of the orange glow of The City of Lights beyond.
-=End flashback, Two Hours Later=-
The orange glow of the transporter faded, as the frustrated operator repeated himself. “Where to, sir?” He asked again. Camen looked at himself, dressed and standing here and realized he didn’t even remember getting himself here, from moments ago when he was disrobed in front of the mirror.
“Takesian Plains, the new temple. s'il vous plait.”
“Step onto the pad, please.” The man said, with a shake of his head.
Jariel materialized, back where he was first thing in the morning. The streets were alive now with people and vehicles, rebuilding the formerly crippled area. Fleur was not difficult to miss. She was seven meters in the air, alone on a roof, fastening panels into place.
Camen offered his services to the group working on a home two doors down from the one Fleur was working on. He left her be, choosing instead to watch her from afar, as she commanded the workgroup. It wasn’t long before he realized how much quicker her home was being built in comparison to his.
Rather than watch her, he decided to redouble his efforts. He climbed onto the roof of the home, and began fastening panels of his own. The sun continued to beat down on him, and occasionally he would need to stop, lift the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, and have a drink before going on. He didn’t quite catch Fleur, but he was pleased with himself, how close he came.
Much like Paris, he felt the same spirit here, that even though these people knew him as a Vedek, that he was at the same time just a man here, like everyone else.
He hopped down off the roof, doused himself with half a bottle of water, and drank the rest. Two doors down, Fleur was still at it, helping wire the sliding door at the entrance to the home.
“Good morning.”
“Oh, it is you. I thought you had left?” Fleur asked, upon seeing Camen.
“I had to check in at Altaan, so they at least knew I was alive. Do you need help here?”
She noted his dirty clothing and assumed he had actually already been here, working to help, for at least part of the morning.
“We take any help we can get, Vedek Jariel.”
*************
Jariel Camen
On Bajor
NRPG: Many thanks to ship’s Counselor, Vol, for his help with the French dialogue. Very much appreciated! ~Jariel
Jariel Camen
On Bajor
NRPG: Many thanks to ship’s Counselor, Vol, for his help with the French dialogue. Very much appreciated! ~Jariel