The BLTS Archive- Jewelry and Bleeding Hearts: True Companion by Trexphile (trxphile@cox.net) --- ARCHIVE: Yes to ASC. If you'd like this one, please ask me first. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This started out as an answer to zoinky's Valentine challenge many moons ago, then morphed into something else. The fifth and final part is not yet written, but after much angsting on my part, I decided to go ahead and post the four parts that are finished. I've attempted to write each part in a different style, utilizing varying POVs and tenses. DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all. Song lyric acknowledgments will be included in the final post. June 2000 --- And tell me How do I live without you? I want to know How do I breathe without you? --- FIRST DAY It was a stroke. Quick. Painless. Or so they told me. As a doctor, I should be able to immediately assess the accuracy of their conclusions. But I won't. I can't allow myself to think of the alternative. All I can know, all that I can state without any doubt is that he's gone. --- SECOND DAY I've been sitting here staring at these pages for Idon'tknowhowlong. Maybe to escape everyone that looks at me as I walk by, their eyes transmitting a sorrow that I'm sure they feel but that I can't accept. Not right now. Not yet. These pages are so clean and white. And blank. I wish I could be blank right now. That I could curl myself up and lie down and melt into these pages. Just disappear into them. I yearn to feel the touch of the pen as it digs into me, pressing someone else's thoughts and emotions and ideas farther into me, the script curling and dotting and crossing until I'm completely covered, till there's no more me to see. No more me to feel. Blank. That's what I want to be. --- THIRD DAY They were all here. I'm glad they were. Will and Deanna took over all the arrangements so I wouldn't have to think about it. I was allowed to just *be*, drifting around in this cloud that's been cocooning me for the past two days. They made sure I was where I needed to be, that I was at least going through the motions of eating. Deanna even picked out my dress for the service. I'm thinking clearer now. Maybe it's the full moon I can see outside the window, casting its strong light, dissolving and banishing that sense-dulling cloud for good. Or maybe it's because the moment I've been dreading for the past two days has finally come and gone. I was so afraid to see him that last time. All those images of Jack's face, ripped open and bloody, those memories that I thought had melted away... they'd only been frozen in some place deep inside me thawing just enough to seep back into my consciousness -- cold and biting and chilling me with terror. I didn't want to feel that horror again. But it wasn't horrible. Jean-Luc's killer lay within, hidden from sight. His face was unravaged, still beautiful. He looked to be, as the cliche goes, simply sleeping. I looked down at him, barely able to see him through the tears, wanting to touch him again just once more. I couldn't. I didn't want to feel how death had taken the warmth from his skin and made it cold and unyielding. So I laid my hand on his chest instead, right over where his heart had beaten so steadily. And I cried my tears. And said goodbye. The service... it was short and attended only by those that were close to Jean-Luc. It's how I wanted it. If Starfleet wants to bitch about "that doctor who doesn't understand protocol," let them. I know that he's probably the most famous of all Starfleet captains, but I also know that he hated pomp and circumstance. He left all that behind seventeen years ago -- he had become a simple gentleman farmer, content with the mundane pleasures that this life provided for him in his final years. Everyone who was there truly loved him and each one had a memory to share. We laid him to rest at the top of a little hill not far from the house, a place that he visited at least once a day when the weather allowed. And I now will do the same. I'm so tired... I can hear the wind building outside and I see that the clouds have started to cover the moon. I hope I can get to sleep before the storm hits. I'll sleep in Deanna's room again tonight. I can't stay in our bed yet. Maybe soon... --- SEVENTH DAY Everyone has left and I'm alone. Deanna didn't want to go -- she said she could take an extended leave, but I told her to go on. There's no point in postponing the inevitable. I've been playing music all day, all of my favorites. It makes the house seem less empty with Mozart and Bach accompanying me. Right now, with the night breeze blowing the curtains and my tea cooling beside me, I can hear "Air on a G String" playing softly from downstairs. I can imagine that Jean-Luc is still down there like on so many other nights, reading and listening to music while I'm up here ready for bed with my book and my tea. Sometimes I get so frustrated with him, spurning me for his other pleasures. And then when I'm almost asleep, he comes to me, moving slowly, carefully so that he doesn't move the bed too much. I feign sleep and then I feel his fingers, so gentle, moving across my forehead, down my cheek, resting on my lips. His words are just as soft, whispering of love and beauty, all for me. And my frustration dissolves, driven away by his warm breath against my ear. We fall asleep, holding each other close in our bed. Our bed. It's there, waiting for me but I still can't bear to get into it alone. I'll wait a little longer. --- FOURTEENTH DAY I've been busy this past week, too busy to write. I've had to attend to some details -- an unpleasant necessity. The vineyard has to be maintained and now that I'm the sole surviving owner (gods, but I hate that expression), I have more responsibilities now. This afternoon I'm finally allowing myself some time to just sit and think. It really is beautiful out here under the shade trees. Peaceful. A slight breeze occasionally ruffling these pages. It's the type of day that Jean-Luc loves. He loves to stand out where the land rises up into a little hill, where he can see the barns and the beginning edges of the fields. He'll stand there, hands clasped behind his back, face turned upward just a bit, feeling and smelling the air. And every time, I always know what to expect when he turns back to me. He'll smile in that slightly off-kilter way and say "Wonderful morning for a ride, don't you think?" And I'll always agree. And he'll ask if I'd like to accompany him. Sometimes I do, and we'll walk down to the barns, sometimes hand-in-hand, sometimes not touching each other at all. And we'll saddle our horses and he'll always check to make sure I've cinched up tightly enough before I mount. And then we'll ride. The air is so clean and smells of warm new grass and wildflowers. The wind whips my hair around my face, getting in my eyes and sticking to my lips, and I'll mutter how I should have pulled it back first. And Jean-Luc will tell me that he loves my hair all wild and free. We'll reach our favorite spot, where the land drops off and we can see the whole estate spread out before us. And while the horses snort and shuffle and bend to taste the grass, we'll sit like royalty and survey our kingdom, our Camelot. Then he'll reach across and take my hand and touch my fingertips to his lips and smile that crooked smile and say "M'lady, are you ready to go back?" God, I wish I could go back... --- EIGHTEENTH DAY I just read what I wrote four days ago and I realize that I was writing in the present tense. I hadn't even noticed at the time. He's gone. I know that. Yet it's still so hard to think of him in the past tense. His presence is still so real for me. Like today -- I went into the town to do some shopping. I'd just come out of the bakery and saw a man across the street with his back to me. A bald man, not tall, moving with a regal grace. My heart jumped so hard in my chest that it hurt. It took me a good five minutes before I could still my shaking legs enough to walk back to my ground car. When I got home, I saw that the bread was ruined -- I must have crushed it against me without realizing it. I've been through all this before. I should know what to expect. Maybe if Jean-Luc had been sick for a while... perhaps I would have been more prepared. But he was taken from me suddenly, just like Jack. He kissed me goodnight and went to sleep and never woke up. Last night I finally slept in our bed. I held his pillow to my face and I could still smell him, just faintly. It comforted me, and I slept better than I'd expected. I still keep to my side of the bed but I'm sure that in time even that will change. I remember getting so angry after Jack died, lashing out at those unknown forces that had ripped him away from me, raging like a woman bereft of her senses. It seems like foolishness now so many years later but at the time my anger was very real. I've been thinking about that old anger lately, wondering if I'll feel the same this time. Somehow I don't think it will come. Despite the suddenness of Jean-Luc's death, it was still a natural one, unlike Jack's. Perhaps this time I will be spared the anger -- and the guilt that follows. --- TWENTY-FIFTH DAY I'm sitting here at the kitchen table having a glass of pinot noir while I write. It's a celebration of sorts. At least I'm trying to make it celebratory. I'm going back to work. Probably not permanently -- at seventy-one, "permanent" doesn't last too long. But the local physician is moving away (to bigger and better things, I'm sure) and he asked me if I would be willing to take over his practice, at least until another doctor comes in. I thought about it for two days, trying to imagine what advice Jean-Luc would give. He would be quite logical, of course, and present both sides dispassionately as a good diplomat would. He wouldn't try to persuade me toward either side, at least not in words. I would be able to read him, of course -- I would see that he really wanted me to stay home, that we had wasted too many years apart, that every minute together was precious. And I would finally say that I would, regretfully, decline the offer. And he would smile and take me in his arms and whisper "I was hoping you would say that." He's not here, however, and though I've tried, I can't find any real reason to decline. There's really nothing for me to do around the house. The few vineyard workers that we have take care of all the real work in the fields. Jean-Luc would do his part but I never cared for the tedium of tying vines or pulling weeds. And frankly, the solitude is starting to wear me down. I need to feel useful again. So tomorrow morning at ten, I'll meet up with Dr Bachan at his office and give him my decision. I feel fairly certain that it's the right one. Salut, Jean-Luc. --- FORTIETH DAY Wesley visited me last night. One minute I was alone preparing to come upstairs and go to bed, the next he was there across the room by the window. At first I thought it was my imagination but when he walked over and hugged me, I knew he was real. He stayed for hours and we talked of all sorts of things. He told me of his travels and all I could do was nod with my mouth hanging open. I told him what his Enterprise friends were doing, about Will and Deanna's family, about Worf's new position in the Klingon Empire, about them all. We shared our memories of Jean-Luc, and I learned how much Wesley loved Jean-Luc as a father. That pleased me more than anything else he shared. And through it all, it felt as if Jean-Luc was there with us, beaming like a proud papa, laughing with us. At around 4am, I was finally overcome with fatigue, and Wesley told me he had to leave. It was hard to watch him wave goodbye and just fade away. Before I fell asleep, though, I could feel his presence close by and I knew that somehow a part of him was there still. I slept well. --- SIXTIETH DAY Work is going well. For the first time since Jean-Luc and I moved here, I really feel as if I'm a part of this town. I've never had that sort of attachment to a place before. It's a good feeling. People recognize me on the street and in the shops -- some of them greet me as if I'm the village sage. It's rather amusing at times, but I don't mind the deferential treatment. I think that, when they see me, they see Jean-Luc as well, remembering the great man that he was. I accept their tribute proudly. It's been three months now since Jean-Luc's death. Spring is segueing into summer, the vineyards are thriving. We've had two babies born in the last week, both home births. It's such a privilege to share in a family's joy during these times. I rarely have to deal with any major injuries or illnesses -- the term "country doctor" fits me well, and I feel that I'm well-suited for it. Sometimes I feel that Nana's watching me, bestowing her blessing on my work. That thought pleases me immensely. I have to go. I just got a call from Claude Leblanc -- his wife has begun her labor. Another soul to welcome into this world. --- SEVENTY-SECOND DAY It's so beautiful up here. The sun is getting closer to the horizon and I'll have to leave soon but I wanted to write just a few words before I left. I can see everything spread before me, just like when Jean-Luc and I would ride to this spot. It's so tranquil here, so comforting to know that when I'm gone it will still all be here. I have come to love this place, this life. I can understand why Jean-Luc wanted to spend his last years here. Sometimes I wonder how he could have left it all for the stars. But of course, I'm glad he did. I can't imagine how my life would have been without him. I am so thankful, so very thankful that he was a part of my life. I can feel them all here now with me. Mama and Papa. Nana. Jack. Jean-Luc. Especially Jean-Luc. All of them, forming a circle around me, their hands joined in a bond that will hold forever, forged by the love they have for me. The emotion I feel is so strong it brings tears to my eyes and my breath catches in my chest. They're saving a place for me in that circle. And sometimes I wish I could just step over and take their hands and be with them again. That I could tell them how much I love them all, how much they have blessed my life. Mama and Papa -- you gave me life, and even though our time together was short, I never doubted that I was your greatest treasure. Precious enough to give your lives for. Nana -- You saw me through the hardest times. You taught me how to be strong, how to survive through the toughest situations. How to use my gifts to help and to heal. Jack -- You taught me what love is. Through your patience and soft words, you helped me tame my temper, to refine my rough edges and prepare me for the life that lay ahead of me without you. Jean-Luc -- Of them all, you are most precious to me. Love came to us late and we cherished it, but more than anything else, you were my friend. My companion, constant and true. Even when we disagreed, your love for me never waned. I always knew that, when the heated words had ceased, you would be there to caress my cheek and touch my lips and tell me that you loved me. That you always would. I still remember your words that one time: "Beverly, you can be so frustrating sometimes and yet in the middle of it all, I look at you and you still take my breath away." Jean-Luc, I don't think I ever told you but even to the end, you left me breathless. I will join you soon, all of you. I'll take my place in that circle. Until then, I will be content with my memories and with your love. Until then. --- When I look in your eyes I'll still see that spark Until the shadows fall Until the room grows dark Then when I leave this earth I'll be with the angels standing I'll be out there waiting for my true companion. --- The End --- LYRICS BORROWED FROM: 17 Again - Eurythmics We Danced Anyway - Deana Carter Never Dance - Linda Eder Don't Wanna Miss a Thing - Aerosmith When Tomorrow Comes - Eurythmics You Have Placed a Chill in My Heart - Eurythmics Strange Currencies - REM Still the One - Shania Twain Time of Your Life - Green Day How Do I Live - Trisha Yearwood True Companion - Marc Cohn AUTHOR'S NOTES: This began as an answer to zoinky's Valentine challenge. Looks like I'm a few months too late. When I discovered that Real Life wasn't going to allow me to meet the deadline, I decided to change directions and challenge myself instead. I chose to write each part in a different style utilizing different points of view and tenses. I also chose eleven songs and tried to convey the mood and meaning of the lyrics within each part. I hope I managed to accomplish this. Neverending thanks to Bevster, zoinky and Kate. Their beta and advice is always the best