A Gift Beyond Death

by Jennifer Campbell

The characters of Tessa, Marta and Dr. Helm don't belong to me. This story is all in good fun with no harm intended. I make no money off this, unfortunately.

This was written for Queen of Swords Weekly Challenge No. 31, for the Queen of Swords fanfic mailing group. 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.

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In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies,
but the silence of our Friends.
-- Martin Luther King Jr.

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 the 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 diggers' 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.

the end

August 20, 2001

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