by Fleur Le Marc
90221.22
...continued from part one...
90221.22
...continued from part one...
The sound of a noise in a room nearby brought him back to the moment, and retrieving the candle, he made his way out of the library, closing the door behind him.
The sound he heard was odd; a scraping noise, almost as if someone was sliding a piece of furniture across the floor. Perhaps one of the children had stolen out of bed, looking for something to eat while all were asleep.
*One of the children, indeed,* A smile dawned upon Pace's face, as he saw that, illuminated by the bright moonlight as it reflected off the snow blanket outside, the stout form of a very familiar small child came into focus.
The child moving the chair in an attempt to reach the counter was none other than his baby sister.
"No no, Tress, you'll fall." Pace's joy gave way to concern, and he hurried to her, setting his candle aside and rushing up behind her.
He then remembered what Fleur had so sadly told him before they'd parted for the night, that Tress had survived the fever but not without residual effects. She would not be able to hear him when he spoke.
Tress did, however, feel the floor vibrate with his approaching footsteps and whirled around to see who it was that had caught her.
When she saw Pace, she squealed softly, and abandoned all thoughts of the cookies as she scampered over to him. She held her arms upward and opened and closed her hands; her own, original gesture indicating that she wanted him to pick her up and hold her.
He scooped her up and she rested her head against his shoulder before giving him an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.
"Young lady you are charged with the crime of attempted grand-theft cookie." Pace laughed softly. "How do you plead?"
Tress frowned, shaking her head side to side, and poking her fingers into her ears to indicate she couldn't hear him. She began to sign furiously, and Pace shook his head in return.
He had been so busy working when they'd been back at the Plains that he hadn't had a chance to pick up as much of the signing language that Jariel was teaching Tress as he had hoped.
He thought now that it certainly must have been the will of the Prophets that Jariel began to teach her those signs before she even got sick- when she could still hear. It seemed that They did indeed work in very mysterious ways.
Pace gave up trying to talk to the toddler now, and simply clutched her to his heart. He kissed the top of her head; thinking that he could happily spend the rest of the night counting the golden curls atop her head, just to be sure that every one was still in its proper place.
She kept on trying to talk to him, finally she began pointing down to the floor, and Pace stooped down and swept up a toy bear and gave it back to her. "Friend of yours?"
Tress didn't know what he'd said, but she held the bear up against his nose and whispered.
"Chou chou." Pace felt a lump form in his throat at hearing her speak aloud.
He wondered how long she'd remember how to do it. If she'd soon become so used to her world of silence that she'd forget how it felt when words formed upon her lips. Like he had become so used to living in a world in which no one was to be trusted; no one was to be believed.
He saw that she was yawning and knew the hour was late. She had no business being out of bed and frankly, neither did he. Still, he couldn't stand the thought of being apart from her, not after only just getting her back.
"Maman?" Tress added, making the appropriate sign at the same time. [[Papa?]]
"No," Pace shook his head. He pointed to the darkness outside. "Night night." She seemed to understand him and sighed.
*Maman and Papa, sleep.*
"Pace." She said next, and the sound of her speaking his name again made Pace's heart break at the thought that he might not, if she forgot how, ever hear her say it again.
He wondered what kind of lessons in speaking, or other help that the doctors of Starfleet could offer to Tress, if she was not condemned to live the life of a poor orphan in the forgotten provinces of Bajor...
Pace carried Tress over to the corner, where a single rocking chair sat.
Vedek Timal would sit in that chair, the man had told him earlier, and read from the prophecies to the children at First Meal. Pace took the liberty of borrowing the chair now, and Tress settled happily against his shoulder as he began to rock her.
He started humming to her; more, he thought, to comfort himself really than her. He tried so hard to remember the words to the song that his mother used to sing to them. The one that she had learned in the camps as a child. Even though Tress couldn't hear him she seemed lulled by the vibration of his chest as he sang softly and she began to drift, immediately, toward sleep.
"I wish I could remember them all, Tressie," he whispered between attempted verses.
Pace's eyes burned anew as he rested his chin against the top of Tress' head. Soon, she went limp in his arms, lost in slumber. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes as he closed them.
His last thought as he fell asleep with his sister in his arms was a wish that the Prophets would show him the path. That They’d give him a sign indicating how he was meant to live not only the rest of his own life, but how he could best take care of the little girl who for the last year and a half had been the only living family he had left.
-=Hours later=-
Fleur Le Marc stole into the kitchen earlier than usual. It had been a long day and a late night for everyone, but she knew that Camen had to go to the hearing for Vedek Ram this morning and she wanted, at least, to offer him a proper breakfast before he left even if he didn't have the stomach to eat it.
As she came into the dining hall, she noticed a candle that had burnt itself out in its holder on one of the tables, and then she heard the sound of a soft, dreamy sigh. She caught sight of Pace and Tress, asleep in Vedek Timal's rocking chair and her heart leapt into her throat.
Looking upon them she wondered what her life had ever meant before these two children were in it; and she knew for a certainty that any happy future for her, whatever path that future may take, could not truly be happy unless they traveled that path along with her.
She heard the sound of rushed footsteps coming from the hall and looked up to see a panicked Azalea Adams poke her head into the dining room. She pointed immediately to the chair in the corner, and Azalea's shoulders sank with relief.
She approached Fleur and whispered in her ear.
"Little stinker pulled a late-night jailbreak on me. I can't believe I didn't hear her get up."
"Sneaky." Fleur said with a shake of her head. "Cute, but sneaky."
"She sure loves him," Azalea observed, the sight of the brother and sister as they were tugging at her heartstrings.
"They have no idea," Fleur whispered back, "just how much it is that I love them."
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Fleur Le Marc
Currently on Bajor
Fleur Le Marc
Currently on Bajor