A GIFT BEYOND DEATH

by Jennifer Campbell
campbellj83@hotmail.com

Week: 31
Quote: "In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our Friends."
Rating: G
Characters: Tessa, Helm, rancheros
Spoilers: None
Archive: Manzana Core. Anywhere else, ask and I'll probably say yes.
Feedback: Good, bad, whatever. I'd love to hear it.
Disclaimer: The character's aren't mine.
Notes: It's quick work, seeing as the challenge was posted only today, but I was inspired. I paraphrased the quote a bit but kept its essence. This is my first attempt at QoS fiction, so please be kind.

~~~~~

Tessa watched, mesmerized, as the first shovel-full of dirt hit the coffin. Tiny reddish-brown grains skittered across the unadorned wood, a symbol of the fertile earth taking back one of its beloved daughters. A cool ocean wind kicked up dust and whipped Tessa's hair into her face, but she paid it no mind, her attention riveted to rhythm of dirt hitting wood -- the rhythm of death.

Her tears dripped unheeded into the grave and soaked into the soil. She threw in a bundle of roses, fresh-cut from her own garden, and a single Tarot card. The High Priestess, mother and spirit. An appropriate last honor for the woman who had guided her since childhood.

I'm finished, Marta. No one else dies because of my actions, not ever again.

The two grave diggers, Tessa's strongest rancheros, piled ever more dirt into the hole. If only, Tessa thought, they could bury her memories, as well. So much blood and violence, and now, Marta was dead. Tessa had always believed she herself would be the first to join her father on the barren hilltop, overlooking the hacienda.

Oh, Marta, I'm so sorry I failed you.

A broad, comforting hand squeezed her shoulder from behind, then caressed down her arm, to her hand, where fingers intertwined with her own. Helm's other arm gently circled her waist, and Tessa leaned back against him. She needed his strength right now, to make it through.

"She was an amazing woman," he said quietly. "In all my years of war I never saw so selfless an act. She must have loved you very much."

Tessa tried to respond but choked on the words. She closed her eyes against the tears, but it didn't help. Behind her lids, she could still see that gut-wrenching moment, as Marta had hurled herself between the Queen and Grisham's gun. One shot. One desperate act, and Marta had fallen, blood pooling around her head and seeping into the dusty street.

Tessa had tried to run to her, but Helm had pulled her away. "Go! You cannot let her sacrifice be in vain. I'll stay with her, I promise."

So she had escaped, and Montoya had had Grisham hauled off to jail for murder. I hope he rots there, she thought fiercely. I hope Montoya hangs him like the dog he is.

Oh, Marta, my friend, my sister, you deserved so much better. You deserved the love of a good man, and children to call you Mother, and all you got was me.

None of this felt real. Standing beside the grave, Tessa felt disconnected, not quite part of her body, as though she would float away if not for Helm's anchoring embrace. First Father, then Marta. Would her beloved Robert be next? Would he sacrifice himself for her bloody destiny?

The grave was half-full when she finally disengaged herself from Helm's arms, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from the digger's work. It would be disrespectful, to leave before they were finished.

She said quietly, knowing only Helm would hear the words, "I can't do this anymore. I won't stand over the grave of another loved one. I don't have the strength for it. I'm going back to Spain."

His voice was low in her ear. "And give up on your destiny? Will you abandon all your people to Montoya's tyranny?"

She laughed despite herself. "They're not my people."

"You are their Queen, and they need you." A pause, and then, "I need you."

"Do you?"

"How could you ever doubt it?"

At that, she gathered the courage to face him. Dark circles ringed his eyes, bloodshot from crying, and his hair flew askew in the wind. She wondered whether he had been sleeping in his clothes again, as rumpled as they were. Then again, she wondered if he had slept at all, since that horrific scene two days ago. She certainly hadn't.

She ran her fingertips along his cheek. "I don't want you to get hurt. You've been almost killed because of me so many times. Eventually, luck will run out."

"When it's time to die, no person can escape their fate."

"That sounds strange, coming from a doctor."

"Tessa, if you give up now, then Marta's sacrifice really will have been wasted. She died so you could live and continue your work here, not in Spain."

The truth of those words resonated inside her. She looked away, out toward the ocean and, on the other side of it, a land where she could forget. There, no one knew of her other life and no one expected anything more of her than for her to simply be Tessa Alvarado. Death couldn't possibly follow her there, across such a vast body of water.

A small voice countered, It followed Doctor Helm. She tried to banish the thought but couldn't.

"It's funny," she said, "that after everything Montoya and Grisham have done to capture or kill me, that something else entirely should test my resolve. After all that's happened, in the end, I will remember not the words of my enemies but the silence of a friend."

"But Marta isn't silenced," Helm said. "If there is one thing I've learned here, it's that the spirit lives on, and her's will forever be with you, as a guide and friend. Surely you know that."

She sighed heavily, resigned. "I can't leave Santa Helena, can I?"

"You already know the answer to that."

Behind them, one of the diggers said politely, "Senorita? We are finished."

She turned to see a fresh mound of dirt rising up beside her father's grave. My two guardians. She thanked her rancheros, and after they had headed back down the hill, she took a deep breath and finished laying her friend to rest. She lifted a white, wooden cross in both hands and, at the head of the grave, rammed it into the ground.

With Helm looking on, she knelt by the cross to pray. "I -- I really don't know what to say to you that I haven't already said a thousand times over these past two days. I miss you, Marta. Whatever will I do without you to look out for me? You've set me back on my path so many times. You've cared for me, given me your wisdom and support. But for all of that, I couldn't protect you. I just wish --" She choked up again. "I wish I could have taken that bullet instead of you. But I'm still here, and I'll do what you would have wanted. The Queen will ride again, and fight until there is justice in this land."

"Amen," Helm said, granting her a small smile.

He offered his hand as she rose to her feet. Dust from the grave coated her black dress, but she deliberately didn't wipe it off. She squeezed Helm's hand, then kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Be careful, my love," she murmured. "I couldn't stand to lose you, as well. You're all I have left here."

"You take care, too, my Queen."

"I always do."

As they walked back to the hacienda, hand in hand, a feeling of peace finally settled in Tessa's heart. She could almost sense Marta's spirit by her side, begging her to shed no more tears, to waste no more energy grieving over the unchangeable.

In her mind, Marta's voice rang out. Look to the future now, to all those people who need your help and protection. You never failed me, and always remember, my Tessa, I am so proud of you.

~~~~~

©August 20, 2001

Rating: G
Characters: Doctor Helm, Don Hidalgo, Tessa, Vera
Feedback: Please!
Summary: Helm gets some advice on his love life.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Fireworks; the plot -- what little there is -- belongs to me.
Notes: Written for Trio and Quote challenge No. 36. No beta on this one.

~~~~~

"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?" Christopher Marlowe

~~~~~

The supply ship arrived two days early, and all of Santa Helena emerged into the smoldering afternoon, leaving behind the merciful shade of their haciendas and shops for the celebration. The town square took on the trappings of a festival, spilling over with smiles and laughter. Money flowed, in exchange for all those things the town normally did without. Fresh fruits, bolts of shimmering cloth for the ladies and new knives for the men.

From his well-worn seat outside the local tavern, Doctor Robert Helm watched it all with a curious detachment. Usually, he would be walking among them, filling his bags with a new stock of medicines and chemicals. But on this day, he felt less like shopping and more like finishing his bottle of whiskey. Then maybe staggering home and passing out.

"Beautiful day, don't you think, doctor?" Don Gaspar Hidalgo stood at his side, smiled cheerfully and bounced on the balls of his feet. "The supply ship is here, all the town has come out for it, yet you are merely watching. That is strange, don't you think?"

"I notice you're not out there, either." Helm's voice sounded dull, uninterested to his own ears.

"That is because my Vera is doing our shopping today. I find it best to stay out of the way."

Helm snorted. "You're a lucky man, to find a woman to whom you can trust your money."

"Indeed." Gaspar nodded wisely. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Helm waved to an empty chair. He didn't particularly feel like entertaining company, but Gaspar had that look in his eyes, that he would accept no refusal. 'Better to endure than fight it,' Helm thought.

Gaspar lowered his bulk carefully onto the offered chair and dabbed his forehead with a silken handkerchief. "It is exhausting, coming out into this heat, but Vera insisted." He pointed into the crowd. "There she is now, talking with Senorita Alvarado. Those two have become so close, lately."

Helm nodded and took a drink. Mostly, he wanted the don to go away and leave him to his dark mood.

"When a man sits alone drinking," Gaspar said intently, "it is one of two things. Money, or women. And since the good doctor never wants for money, it must be a woman that makes you so glum. Hmm?"

Helm gave him a bewildered look. "Is it that obvious?"

"Ah, you see, I was right. I know that look. I've seen it in the mirror too many times. There's such a hopelessness behind the eyes." He peered more closely at Helm. "Bloodshot eyes, too. Either you're not sleeping or you're doing too much of this."

He gestured to the tavern behind them. Helm's alcohol- muddled brain took a moment to figure out what he meant: Too much drowning of sorrows. Well, maybe that was true, but the old habits of a soldier linger like a virus. He had resolved to put it all behind him, but now she had him drinking again, and even killing. He had broken his most sacred vow to save her life, yet she still did not trust him enough to share her secret.

From the packed square, Helm could hear angry voices, neither of which he recognized, rise above the commotion. In this heat, tempers would soar. Soon it would come to knives, and then injuries, and a breathless boy would appear at his table begging for help. 'Doctor, doctor, my father's hurt real bad ...'

"Doctor?" Gaspar leaned forward, concerned. "Are you all right? You're suddenly very pale."

"I'm fine," he replied curtly, then finished his drink and poured another. Maybe today the combatants would solve their problems without bloodshed. Yeah, sure. And maybe the colonel would give away money and the Queen would unmask herself in the square.

"If you want to talk about it ..."

"Thank you, but with all respect, I'm not in the mood."

Gaspar nodded. "I understand. Woman troubles are a sensitive, personal matter. Take my Vera, for example. She keeps secrets, and she thinks I do not know what she does when she says she is meeting Maria Teresa in town for lunch. But I am no fool who does not know his own wife."

Helm choked on his whiskey, some of it spewing across the table. He suddenly felt much more sober. "You know?"

"My pedal is beautiful, young and very impetuous. She makes a game of it with Captain Grisham, but if she knew I knew, it would kill her. He is more handsome and energetic than me, and perhaps Vera needs that. But as time passes, her infatuation with him will fade, while our love will endure."

Helm could only stare in amazement. "You are a tolerant man, Don Hidalgo."

"And a discreet one."

Helm heard what he did not say: 'You can trust me, doctor, as I have just trusted you. If I can keep this secret from my wife, I can keep your secret as well.' Maybe he could, at that. Here was one of Santa Helena's most powerful and respected dons sitting at his table, offering unconditional friendship. 'I would be the fool to reject this man.'

Helm made his choice. "At least you have all the information. No more secrets. The woman I love, I don't even know who she is."

Gaspar breathed out in a soft sigh, like a puff of wind. "Ah, I see now. It is the Queen you drink for."

Somehow, the don catching on so quickly didn't faze Helm this time. He spoke quietly, everything coming out in a rush. "When I first realized that I loved her, when I knew I would do anything to protect her -- even kill -- I started looking for her in town. Surely she must be among the women somewhere, I thought, and if I truly love her, I will know her. No mask or lack thereof could keep me from knowing her." His voice turned harsh. "That was months ago, and still I know nothing."

"What is it about her that you love?"

Helm paused before answering, closed his eyes to visualize her. "Most women are bred to be submissive. There's no spirit in them, or if there ever was, their fathers beat it out of them at a young age. The Queen, though, is different from any woman I've ever met. She sees injustice, and instead of standing by, she takes on this dangerous persona to fight it. It is such a selfless act. There is no gain for her, but she does it anyway." He sucked in his breath, as a vision of her came to mind, as he first had seen her -- tied to a post, helpless yet still defiant. "I knew all that the first time I laid eyes on her."

A sympathetic smile tugged at Gaspar's mouth. "Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"

Helm nodded, although he hadn't realized the truth until now. "Yes, yes that's right. I loved her at first sight."

"And when you search for her in town, what do you look for?"

He shrugged. "Some obvious traits. Height, body type, dark hair."

Gaspar chuckled. "And that's all? No wonder you cannot find her."

"No, I -- I know how she moves, like a wild animal on the hunt. I know her voice and her scent, and the passion behind her eyes ..."

His voice trailed off. This was almost too much, too difficult to talk about. How silly, to have to describe how you recognize the sun or moon. 'But which is she?' a small voice asked, deep inside him. 'The sun, the moon, or maybe both.' To that, he didn't have an answer.

"I think," Gaspar said, "I know your problem."

"Oh, well, please share, senor, how you know more about it than I do myself."

If Gaspar noticed the sarcasm in Helm's response, he didn't acknowledge it. "When you tell me what you love about her, you speak of intangible things -- her spirit and selflessness and sense of justice. Yet what you look for is all physical. You need to look beyond that, to search for her soul and not for her body."

Helm blinked. Such a simple concept, but would it work? How did one go about searching for a soul? Doctors worked elbow-deep in the physical every day, staunching wounds, setting bones and measuring medicines. To look beyond that might prove an impossible task.

He shook his head. "I just don't know ..."

"It is the best advice I can give you, my friend." Gaspar looked out toward the square, then smiled and waved. He called out, "Ah, my pedal, come and join us."

Helm watched with only mild interest as Vera and Senorita Alvarado, both resplendent in their fine dresses, slowly approached. Vera carried a basket of goods, but all Tessa held was a flimsy parasol to keep off the midday sun.

They were so different, like day and night; yet even for her darkness, Tessa shined thanks to her happy, contented smile. It seemed, as the women came closer, that she gave that smile entirely to him. Helm shook himself to clear the thought, so ridiculous. The alcohol must have rattled his brains. The flighty daughter of a wealthy don would not see anything in an oftentimes crabby town doctor. Even if she did, he had no interest in her mindless sort of chatter.

Both men stood to greet the ladies, Helm a bit more unsteady on his feet than Gaspar. If anyone noticed, they had the grace not to say so.

Gaspar gave his wife a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Did you find everything we need?"

"Of course." Vera wrinkled her nose and pouted. "Don't you trust me, Gaspar?"

"You know I do." Gaspar nodded at Tessa. "Have you not bought anything today, Maria Teresa? Surely the ship brought something for you, hmm?"

Tessa giggled. "Marta has our things in the wagon. We'll be leaving shortly, but first I need to speak to Doctor Helm, in private."

Helm blinked at that, then gestured away from the table. A single lady seeking the company of a man was unusual at best. "Perhaps you would accompany me, Senorita. I must return to my office."

She smiled brilliantly again. "Of course, doctor."

Before leaving, Helm nodded his farewell to Don Hidalgo and his wife. "If you would excuse us. And, thank you, my friend."

"My pleasure, doctor."

Helm offered his arm to Tessa, and they started off to circle the crowded square. He couldn't help but notice the senorita had dabbed on a bit too much perfume that morning. As a rule, he preferred a woman who did not mask her natural scent. 'Like the Queen.' Still, having Tessa at his side felt strangely comforting, as though this is where she was supposed to be. The whiskey must have something to do with that, he reasoned.

"I wanted to get away from Don Hidalgo and Vera before making a request," she said. "I have no wish to embarrass my foreman in polite company. He has a bad case of diarrhea and cannot come to town."

Helm relaxed. She wanted to talk business, and that he could do. "I'll come by your hacienda later this afternoon. Is that soon enough?"

"Yes. Thank you, doctor."

"Then if that is all, senorita, I must take my leave."

They stopped in the street, people passing all around them. For a moment, her vapid expression changed and he could see more -- exhaustion and even a little sadness. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead snapped her jaw shut. Then, all unexpectedly, her eyes flashed, as though in anger, and Helm felt an overpowering sense of deja vu. He had seen that before, but where? He almost swayed under the power of it.

The anger passed as quickly as it had come. She released his arm slowly, her fingers lingering. "Later this afternoon, then, I'll expect you."

She swept away from him without another word, and he could only watch her retreat in dumbfounded confusion. What had he said to provoke those quick flashes of emotion? Perhaps he had imagined it. Cursed alcohol.

No matter, really. He had more important things to think on, the most important of which was his conversation with Don Hidalgo. If he changed his approach, could he really find her? Unearth the Queen's secret and finally know her without the mask?

'Probably not,' he thought ruefully as he opened his office door, his gaze straying unawares to Senorita Alvarado as she and Marta drove their wagon out of town. 'Some blinders are not meant to be lifted.'

THE END