CHAMPAGNE

by Eliza
elizawpg@shaw.ca

CATEGORY/RATING: Helm/Marta, G
LEGAL STUFF: The Doc and Marta don't belong to me, it seems that Fireworks Entertainment has the paperwork. No copyright infringement intended. No money made.
FEEDBACK: Any and all comments are encouraged.
SUMMARY: Marta's New Year's resolution (we all know how long those last). Third in a series.

She had sat on the edge of many society events this past month and she had finally reached her limit. Tessa could take care of herself, Marta decided, and she would slip out for a few moments and take a seat. It was a beautiful night for December. January, she reminded herself. The stars were close, the moon a fat crescent and there was still the faint scent of roses coming from Colonel Montoya's garden. She sat on a stone bench and rested against the stucco wall, surprised both were still slightly warm from the day's heat. She covered her face as she indulged in a voluptuous yawn.

"I guess champagne would not be your first choice of beverage then," came a velvety voice out of the darkness.

Marta swiftly removed her hands, already sure of who was there. That voice could not be mistaken; even without the accent it would be remarkable.

Doctor Helm wandered into the garden and held out a glass. She accepted and said, "Coffee would probably be better but I would be a fool to turn down this offer." Helm lifted an eyebrow and Marta smirked but with little humor. "Don't start with the smart remarks tonight, Doctor. I am too tired to parry them."

"Whatever the lady wishes." Rather than the slightly teasing tone that would usually accompany such a reply, Helm was completely serious. He touched his glass to hers and silently asked permission to sit. She gave it and he joined her on the bench.

That is how they stayed. The two, sitting side by side, drinking champagne, and watching the stars, while the party continued behind them, on the other side of the wall. In the uncertain light, Marta took the chance to admire the man beside her. Not that she hadn't seen it all before; she had. The memory of her intrusion on his bath brought warmth to her face. On that day Helm had seemed a different man than the one sitting beside her. This one was civilized and self contained the other was almost debauched, or maybe that was just her own emotions colouring the memory. What had prompted her to be so bold that day? He had intrigue her from the first and she was not a virginal child, but neither was she normally given to such brazen behavior.

It could be because his mind interested her as much as his body. Helm was a complex man, with many secrets of his own, but seemed honest in his dealings with people in general. They talked easily; she never felt he was condescending to her because of her sex or her station. Although he seemed content tonight just sitting in silence, Marta could sense there was something bothering him. She was tempted to ask but was reluctant to cross the boundaries that had been established in their relationship. She made a resolution not to risk what little they could have by wanting more.

When the glass was empty Marta returned it to the doctor and moved to get up. He stopped her returning to the party with a light touch on her arm and a question. "Why do you do it?"

"What?" Marta was confused, not just by the vagueness of the question itself but by the seriousness of the feelings behind it. Their interaction had always been light, teasing.

"Follow her to every party, every social event?"

He knew the rules of society, why was he making an issue of this? Marta said, "She is a lady, she must be attended."

"Surely there are others who could perform the task occasionally. Must you always be forced to be her shadow?" There was anger in his voice and scorn for the woman she loved like her own child.

How dare he make judgements on things he knows nothing about? And how dare he think that I don't know my own worth?! Marta was finally understanding the reasons behind the questions. "I would not allow it. She is mine." The pride and protectiveness that she felt for her young charge emerged in the fierceness of her reply.

Helm had the decency to look contrite. "A very fortunate young woman indeed," he got to his feet and gently smoothed one of the many curls that had escaped her pins, "to be claimed by someone like you."

He had given her compliments before, but she had considered them outrageous declarations, not meant to be taken seriously. Hearing them again in her memory, she could see that there may have been some of his true feelings hidden in the playful delivery. His touch was as gentle as his voice had been, as he continued to wrap the wayward curls around his fingers. She took a step back and he released her hair, but took a small step forward to reduce the physical distance. He was too close; the emotions at the moment were too real. Marta had to bring this exchange back into familiar territory.

"She is like a daughter. I believe the feelings that you are referring to could not be described as maternal." She made sure there was a teasing note in her voice.

A wide grin appeared and he said, "I thought you were too tired for verbal sparring."

"Under the circumstances it is preferable to the alternative." Helm shook his head, not quite sure what Marta was referring to. Marta smiled, the doctor was usually quicker to pick up innuendo than this. She took pity on him and explained, "If we stay out here much longer it is sure to become physical, regardless of our better judgement."

Helm was actually shocked by the implication. "I would never take advantage ..."

Marta cut him off by saying, "I never said you would." With that she went back inside.

THE END