NEW: THE SOUL GARDENS chapter 14 a

[Lori]

THE SOUL GARDENS by Lori Summers

****Author's Note****

Last chapter. Whew! I can't believe it. I hope you like it...it sure is
long. 85K. Yikes.

****************

Strange how my heart beats, to find myself upon your shore.
Strange how I still feel my loss of comfort gone before.
Cool waves wash over and drift away with dreams of youth
So time is stolen...I cannot hold you long enough.

And so, this is where I should be now, days and nights falling by me.
I know of a dream I should be holding, days and nights falling by...

Soft blue horizons reach far into my childhood days
As you are rising to bring me my forgotten ways
Strange how I falter, to find I'm standing in deep water
Strange how my heart beats...to find I'm standing on your shore.
--Enya

CHAPTER 14: SHORE

And so he stayed.
Ace was released soon afterwards with several bottles of
medication and strict instructions about how to conduct herself during her
recovery. The doctor wanted her to use a wheelchair but, not surprisingly,
Ace insisted on walking out of the medical facility. She was stunned by
the sight that greeted her as she left the calm security of the hospital,
one arm through Romana's and the other through the Doctor's.
The Gardens were alive with activity. People were hurrying
hither and yon with purposeful looks on their faces bearing papers and
briefcases and messages. Groups of Felix's soldiers streamed from the
transport platform to HQ and back again and everywhere you looked people
were conferring, talking, consulting, shouting.
"What's going on here?" she asked.
"Organizing a new government isn't a job for the lazy," Byron
commented as he came out behind them, bearing Ace's release orders.
"Everyone's pulling double shifts. Garner hasn't left his office at the
Central Complex in like 36 hours...but don't worry. I've found you a nice
quiet corner, and things will soon calm down." He led them down to the
main floor of the Gardens and across the lawn to the underground equivalent
of the suburbs...a secluded corner of more spacious dwellings with their
own yards. "These were built by the original settlers," he explained,
leading them up the walkway. "They're in great demand for their space, but
Garner has always kept one open. I always suspected he was secretly
holding it in the hopes that some galactic celebrity might decide to drop
by," he said with a grin, opening the door to the house and standing aside,
"but it's been empty since the last occupants died. Just another of
Garner's little idiosyncracies that finally paid off."
Ace walked in, holding Romana's hand, her mouth open. She hadn't
expected such detail in a house that had been handmade out of rocks, sand,
and mud. The door opened onto an entryway that was tiled with irregularly
shaped handmade fired tiles. It was two stories tall and dominated by a
curved open staircase with wrought-iron railings. To the right there was a
spacious living room that was indeed well-lived in. It was furnished with
comfortable-looking sofas and chairs that were wide and low to the ground,
piled high with pillows and rugs. Hand-sewn tapestries hung the walls
between the tall windows and there were many, many candlesticks and
candelabras. Ace could see an old drafting table, worn smooth and shiny
with use, an ornate secretary that had cost someone hours of carving, and a
shoulder-high stone fireplace that looked big enough to roast a pig in.
The hardwood floors were covered with ecelctic multicolored rag rugs. To
the left was a dining room furnished in a similar style, and Ace could well
imagine the rest of the house. "Wow," she breathed. "It's so warm and
friendly...someone loved this place. This was a *home.*"
Byron nodded. "Yep. The couple that lived here were real
Renaissance people. Artists, scientists, scholars. They made practically
everything here, the paintings, the rugs, the furniture. Some of it was
handed down but most of it is original. Wait till you see the gardens they
put in."
The Doctor came in behind them and set Ace's valise in the
hallway. He put his hands on his hips and grinned. "What a marvelous
place!" he exclaimed.
Byron turned to look at him. "Well...I guess Garner finally got
that galactic celebrity in here after all," he said.
Ace had wandered into the living room and sank down on the big
couch. It seemed to swallow her and she fell back against the pillows,
sighing and letting her eyes fall closed.
"Ace, I'll get your things from Romana's TARDIS," the Doctor said.
"Thanks," she replied, already half-asleep. He left and the
quiet of the decades fell once again. Romana examined a painting that hung
in the front hallway.
"Would you like to see the garden?" Byron asked after a moment.
"Oh...yes, I would," she replied. They went out the front door
and around to the back of the house where Romana was surprised to find a
very elaborate and beautiful garden with a pool and a fountain and many
beds of flowers and tall trees. She sighed, breathing in the smell of the
many blooms. "How wonderful to have something like this at your home," she
said. "Who keeps it up?"
"The residents in this neighborhood take turns tending the yard
and the house," he replied. Romana sat down on a stone bench near the
pond. Byron kept his disance.
"So how is the reorganization going?"
"Oh, slow but sure. Garner's divided the colony into voting
districts, next week they're going to have elections for delegates to draw
up a colonial constitution."
"One thing has always puzzled me about this supposed takeover..."
"Reorganization, Romana. 'Takeover' has so many bad connotations."
"Whatever you call it, these kinds of changes usually only work
if the populace wants them to. Let's face it, Byron, aside from you guys
the citizens of this colony aren't known for their altruistic tendencies.
In fact, their reputation is pretty horrific. Garner's proposing a shift
to a more honorable way of life. Will they go for that?"
"Well, we'll see, won't we?"
"It's a big risk."
"Oh, I don't know. Most of the colonial residents are ordinary
people who have been under the thumb of the reigning dictatorship for so
long they don't even know that there's another way to do it. The pariah
scientists who founded this place are long dead. Their moral heirs have
been running the place for centuries, but I think most people, given a
chance, would just as soon discard that heritage."
"What if they don't?"
"If they don't, we'll close off the transport corridor and live
here. We've been completely self-sufficient for a long time now, we don't
need the colony for anything. If necessary we'll leave the planet and find
a new place for ourselves." Romana stared into the tranquil pond,
half-listening. Byron cocked his head and looked at her thoughtfully.
"What's really on your mind?"
She sighed. "I'm just worried about Ace."
"We all are," he said, his voice sympathetic. He glanced in
towards the house. "Do you think they've reconciled?"
She stood, thrusting her hands into her tunic pockets. "I think
it's a probationary truce," she said thoughtfully. "Sort of a trial
period."
"Not that it's any of our business," he added.
She smiled up at him. "Of course not." She started back towards
the house but as she passed him he put out a hand to stop her.
"How long are you going to stay?" he asked in as casual a tone as
he could manage.
She considered for a moment. "I don't know. I want to stay with
her for as long as she wants me to." She rubbed her arms as if she were
chilly. "She won't admit it, but she's going to need support. No one
should have to go through everything she's gone through...and still is
going through."

The Doctor returned shortly to the quiet house, which strangely
already felt like home. He bore several bags containing things he knew Ace
would need, clothes, things of that nature. He set the bags next to the
other one in the foyer, looking into the living room where Ace lay on the
sofa asleep. He walked in to bend over her, his face softening. She
looked so peaceful, the tide of her breath coming with slow evenness. He
stroked one hand gently across her cheek, a lump rising in his throat. She
stirred in her sleep and turned her head towards him, snuggling into the
voluminous pillows and blankets on the couch. He slipped one arm
underneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees and lifted her off
the couch. She leaned her head insensibly against his shoulder as he
carried her up the stairs. His feet just seemed to know where to find the
bedroom, this house felt so comfortable and familiar. He found there
exactly what he'd known he would, a big four-poster with a mattress as
expansive and soft as a cloud, piled high with pillows. He just stood
there for a moment with her in his arms, fighting back tears. A hundred
memories assaulted him, memories of happier times when he had held her in
his arms like this, some of those times into bedrooms not unlike this one.
She'd be laughing and tugging at his tie or whispering into his ear...it
seemed like such a long time ago.
He gently laid her on the bed and covered her with a big down
comforter. She drew her knees up to her chest and pulled the blanket close
to herself, murmuring slightly in her sleep. He bent and gently kissed her
forehead, then left the room, leaving the door open in case she needed him.
He went downstairs to find Romana and Byron in the beautiful
garden behind the house. They were deep in conversation when he arrived,
conversation which ceased immediately at the sight of him.
He put on a fake smile. "Romana...you were going to take me to
fetch my TARDIS?"
She smiled back, and it was equally ersatz. "Sure. Do you want
to do that now? Where's Ace?"
"She's sleeping."
"What if she wakes up?"
"Romana, she's 34 years old. Calm down."
She shrugged. "Okay, let's go."

Theo and Angel sat silently on either side of her large desk.
He'd finished the daily briefing and now...they sat. There was no real
reason for him to stay but she did not dismiss him, just idly chewed on one
fingernail as she stared at the briefing notes which she'd had time to read
at least a dozen times.
He knew what she was waiting for. They had not spoken, really
spoken, since the day of Ace's miscarriage. She must have a thousand
questions, he thought to himself. Why doesn't she just ask them?
Finally she did. "Why didn't you tell me?" she said.
"It was nothing to do with you. No one knows. Sometimes I
forget myself."
"Forget? How can you forget that you're Universe?"
"Surprisingly easily. It's not like you, where you are both
human and Guardian. When I'm me, my existence as Universe seems like a
dream, and when I'm Universe, my life as myself seems like a delusion."
She shook her head in wonderment. "How do you stand it? And why
the secrecy?"
He sighed. "Theo, I'd advise you to forget that you know about
it. It can only taint your attitude towards me and hurt our relationship."
She looked hurt. "You don't think I could be objective?"
He paused. "No, I don't. No one could."
"But Angel...it's part of who you are, and you're my assistant
and it's important that I understand everything about you, and..."
She went on, but Angel had heard enough. He closed his eyes
briefly and made a small motion with his hand. Her words stopped as if cut
off by a sharp knife. She blinked and looked down at the briefing notes.
"What were you saying?" she asked.
"Nothing, " he said sadly. She frowned.
"Are you all right, Angel?"
He forced a smile. "Of course. What could be wrong?"

The days passed. The pandemonium on Ceres Beta died down as
things began to sort themselves out. Garner got the colony thinking about
their own future, and life in the Gardens slowy returned to normal.
In the quiet house, Ace had sunk into a state of semi-depression.
She went to bed before nightfall and slept almost to noon most days, and
when she did not sleep she sat in quiet contemplation, not speaking and
barely moving. The Doctor watched her surreptitiously for any signs of
further descent but saw none...nonetheless it worried him. He didn't think
she would have even eaten if he hadn't been there to prepare food. He was
doing a lot of that lately...in fact, since moving into this house it
seemed all he wanted to do was cook and bake. He spent hours in the
kitchen, poring through huge recipe files kept by the previous occupant,
hunting up ingredients from the markets in the east cavern, preparing
complicated reduction sauces and delicate baked goods. He wasn't totally
ignorant of the implications, after a death it was understandable to want
to engage in such a life-affirming pastime as cooking, but he couldn't deny
the comfort it was giving him. And so he cooked, most of the time far too
much food for himself and Ace to eat. Almost every day he found himself
taking dish after dish to the neighbors or over to Romana's TARDIS, which
was parked across the street on the corner. There was always someone to
eat all the food he fixed, if nothing else he would take it over to Gardens
HQ where there were always hungry soldiers and staff who would make quick
work of whatever he brought them. They started looking forward to his
visits, for everything he fixed was delicious. The Doctor became a common
sight walking about the Gardens floor carrying two big baskets full of
food. When they saw him coming, the neighborhood children would mob him,
knowing that he'd have something for them. Sometimes a soft oatmeal cookie
with raisings and pecans, or perhaps a puff pastry filled with chocolate
and custard, or delicately frosted petit fours with pretty designs painted
on them with colored icing.
For all Ace noticed, they could have been living on bread and
water. She would wordlessly eat whatever he put in front of her and return
to her brooding.
"I'm terribly worried about her," he told Romana as they walked
back to the house from HQ one afternoon. "She won't talk or move or do
anything but sit. I want to do something but I don't know how to help
her!" he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead with one hand.
Romana frowned. "It was a little bit like that right after she
moved in with me. She was very quiet and spent most of her time in the
gym, beating the hell out of the punching bag."
"I'd feel better if she did that, if she did *anything* but just
sit and stare."
"She came out of it after a few days, I think she'll come out of
this too. But you know her best, what do you think?"
"Yes, I know her best, but this is an entirely new side of her
that I've never seen before. Her normal reaction to a blow is anger, not
depression."
"But she's been angry for so long, a person can't keep that up
forever. Perhaps she doesn't have any anger left in her and so she's stuck
with sadness."
They were coming up to the house. The Doctor paused on the front
porch. "That very well may be." He started to open the door and then
paused to look back at her. "I have faith in her strength. I know she
will come out of this whole again, but it tears me up to see her like
this."
"Doctor, she's just lost a child. She does have a right to her
sadness."
He nodded. "You're right, of course. Are you coming in?"
"No, I'm supposed to have dinner with Byron."
He arched an eyebrow. "That so? Well, have a nice time." He
disappeared into the house. Romana shook her head at his foolishness and
headed for her TARDIS.

"Ace?" the Doctor called as he entered the house. She wasn't in
her usual spot in the living room window seat. He went upstairs and
checked the bedroom, but it was empty, the bed neatly made. Frowning, he
went back downstairs and walked through the house, calling her name. No
answer. He stood in the kitchen, hands on his hips, wondering where she
could have gotten off to when he spied her through the bay window over the
sink. She was in the garden on one of the stone benches, the one next to
the bed of gladiolas. Just the way she was sitting there tugged at his
hearts; her shoulders slumped and her head down, her hands folded demurely
in her lap. He went outside and carefully approached her.
"Ace?" She didn't acknowledge his presence. "It's a bit chilly
out, why don't you come inside?" When she didn't answer this either, he
moved closer and bent to look at her face...and was surprised to see that
she wasn't merely sitting there brooding, but was in fact staring quite
fixedly at the flower bed before her. As he looked at her she raised a
hand and pointed at it.
"These poor flowers are in terrible shape," she said softly.
"They are?" the Doctor stammered, unsure what to make of her
statement.
She nodded. "Look at them. There's tons of weeds, and they look
like they haven't been pinched back in months." He said nothing, not
bothering to ask where she'd come by this horticultural expertise. She
slid off the bench and crouched next to the flower bed. After a moment's
hesitation, she reached out, grasped a tall weed and pulled it out
forcefully, tossing it to the grass at her side. She pulled another, then
another. She settled into a cross-legged position on the ground and dug
in, her fingers forging through the tangled stems to root out the intruder
weeds. She glanced up at the Doctor and seemed surprised that he was still
there. "Umm...there's a basket of gardening tools in the mudroom. Could
you fetch it for me?"
"Oh! Of course," he said, and hurried off to collect the basket,
just happy that she had actually spoken. He set the basket next to her.
She reached in and pulled on the gardening gloves that were there, picked
up a trowel and started in on the caked soil of the flower bed. He stood
there watching her for some moments then went back inside, leaving her to
her ministrations.
Some hours later, the Doctor looked up from the recipe book he'd
been reading to note that it was nearly nine o'clock and the light was
almost gone. He stood and peered out the kitchen window to see Ace still
crouched by the flower beds, enthusiastically rooting around in the dirt.
He hurried outside. "Ace! It's almost dark, you'll go blind! What in the
world are you doing?"
She stood up and brushed off her knees. Her arms were dirty up
to the elbows, her hair hung in her face and her clothes were spotted with
mud and grass stains...but there was more life in her eyes than he'd seen
there in days. "It's a crime the way some plants are treated," she
commented, tossing the trowel into the basket. "These are such beautiful
flowers, you'd think they'd be better arranged." She went past him into
the house without further comment. He stared at her handiwork. In the few
hours she'd been out here she had managed to weed and replant most of the
beds near where she'd been sitting...and by the half-empty bag of peat moss
that was leaning up against a birch tree, she'd been tilling the soil in
the beds too. He had to admit, the flowers looked much better in her
presentation, and far healthier and more cared-for than they had this
morning.
He went back into the house and heard the shower running
upstairs...she would probably go straight to bed from there. He considered
going up to once again attempt conversation but decided against it.

The next morning, the Doctor awoke after a few hours' sleep to
the usual cheerful sunshine. He dressed, wondering if the artificial
day-cycle here in the Gardens could be modified to provide the occasional
overcast day...even sunshine could get old if uninterrupted.
He headed to the kitchen with a mind towards whipping up a nice
batch of brown-sugar-and-raisin popovers and a ham-and-cheese quiche. He
was putting away the previous night's dry dishes when he glanced out the
window...to see Ace already outside, on her hands and knees in the garden.
He watched her for a few moments, his mouth hanging open, the dishes
forgotten. She straightened and stretched her back, then turned her face
upwards and smiled into the light as if enjoying its warmth. A wide grin
spread about the Doctor's face and he thought he might cry at the sight of
that smile, which he had feared he would never see again.
He went outside and asked if she wanted a croissant or something,
but she merely glanced up and gave a brief shake of her head "no." Judging
that this was not the time to try to engage her, he went back to the house
and went about his own activities.
Ace stayed in the backyard all morning, working her way through
the flower beds, stopping only once to come in for a glass of juice. By
lunchtime the Doctor had finished not only the popovers and quiche, but had
also set a pork roast to baking in a lovely honey-orange glaze and left
some herbed bread dough to rise in the pantry. In between these culinary
projects he would sit at the bay window and watch her work. Just the fact
that she was engaging in any activity at all made him feel better. She was
going about her gardening with the single-mindedness she brought to most
everything she did, her t-shirt sleeves rolled up, the muscles in her arms
flexing as she dug and pulled.
She was mixing up some topsoil with peat moss and fertilizer when
he came out the back door with a plate and a glass. "Lunchtime!" he
announced. She looked up from the mixing pot.
"Oh...thanks. I'm starved." She pulled off her gloves and sat
down at the patio table. He sat down opposite her as she contemplated the
plate in front of her. "What's this pie stuff?"
"It's quiche, ham and cheese. And that's a lovely garlic tomato
soup with dill."
She took a bite. "Yummy," was her only comment. They sat
quietly for a few minutes as she ate. "I *have* noticed all the cooking
you've been doing, by the way. I wish I could say it was good, but I'm
afraid I didn't really taste most of it."
"That's understandable."
"Understandable or not, that seems to be the way of it."
A few more beats of silence passed. "I'm glad to hear your
voice," he said. "I've been worried about you."
She looked at him with a speculative expression for a moment,
considering a number of replies, some less charitable than others, but
shook them off and merely shrugged. "I guess I can see why."
"Can you tell me what you've been feeling these last few days?"
he asked quietly.
She set down her fork and crossed her arms on the table, looking
away. "I don't really want to talk about it right now," she said.
"Well, I think we should talk about it. Don't you think we might
be feeling some of the same things?" She didn't respond. "Ace...we used
to share everything."
"I know," she whispered, not moving. "But I can't right now,"
she continued, her voice cracking slightly on the last word. She rose,
picked up her trowel and soon was back in amongst the weeds and flowers.
Sighing, the Doctor picked up her plate and glass and returned to the
house.

This went on for several days. Ace's gardening mania continued
unabated. She would rise at dawn and have some of whatever the Doctor was
whipping up that morning (granted, she was a good deal more appreciative
and complimentary about his cooking than she'd been during her
near-catatonic stage), then head out into the garden, rolling up her
sleeves and twisting her hair into a tight plait. He would bring her some
lunch at midday, usually attempting to open up a dialogue with her, but
always unsuccesfully. She was willing to converse about impersonal
things...the food, the garden, the colonial reorganization...but nothing
any more meaningful than that despite his best efforts. He did manage to
convince her to come inside for dinner and sit with him, but these were
exercises in anxiety. The tension was thicker than the bouillabaisse, and
both of them were usually grateful for the excuse to return to their
activities, she to her gardening and he to his books and recipes.
One fateful afternoon, the Doctor received a phone call from
Garner asking if he and Ace would come up to Gardens HQ to watch his
colonial address that evening. It would be something of a celebration of
the ratification of the new constitution and they'd all be most grateful
for their presence, blah blah blah. Excited, the Doctor went outside to
the garden. Ace was in the potting shed where she'd set up a number of
flats for nurturing small seedlings until they were ready to plant.
"Ace!" he called as he approached. She poked her head out.
"What is it? You sound excited."
"We're invited to HQ for Garner's big address tonight!" She
emerged, carefully balancing a large flat of delicate green stems.
"Oh. Do we have to go?" she asked, moving towards the patio
table, which she had commandeered for gardening supplies.
His face fell. "I thought you'd want to! This is a big moment
for the colony and for Garner and the rest of the Gardens."
She placed the flat on the table and turned towards him, brushing
off her hands. "I just don't know if I really want to attend a big social
gathering."
He stepped forward, frowning. "It won't be that big, and
everyone's been asking about you. We don't have to stay long if you don't
want to."
Her face darkened. "I said I don't want to go, okay?" she said,
latent anger in her voice.
He moved closer, lowering his voice and wanting nothing more than
to finally reach her. "Ace, you can't hide here forever. I know how hard
this has hit you, but *you're* still alive."
She stared at him, uncomprehending. She wasn't sure what he was
trying to say, all she knew was that he was blaming her for something
again. In a surprising burst of anger that came from somewhere deep inside
her, her hand flashed out and struck his cheek. He jerked backwards, more
surprised than hurt. Appalled at herself, Ace quickly turned away and her
hip struck the flat she'd just set down, sending it flying off the table to
strike the patio, dirt and seedlings scattering over the cobblestones.
Ace uttered a strangled cry at the sight of her carefully
cultivated stems spilled everywhere and whirled on him again, her anger
boiling over.
"Look at that!" she cried, pointing. "Look what you made me
do...I've been nurturing those seedlings for days and now they'll die!"
Her voice was spiralling higher into a near-shriek. The Doctor stared at
her, horror and shock paralyzing him. She fell on her knees next to the
pile of potting soil and seedlings and began clumping them together with
her hands, trying to get them back into the flat, although it was painfully
evident that she was doing more harm than good. "I've got to get them back
in the soil," she said, her voice choked. "Otherwise they'll die, they'll
be dead," she kept repeating. She tried for a few more seconds to salvage
the mess but then gave up, holding her dirt-clotted fingers up in front of
her. She wailed at the sight of them. "Oh God, it's no use, it's no use,
they're all dead, oh God oh God..." She pressed her hands to the sides of
her head, her words dissolving into screaming sobs, the kind that she'd
been uttering silently for two weeks now.
The Doctor stared at her, kneeling in the dirt on the patio, her
mud-streaked arms thrown over her head. He could only think of one thing
to do, but he didn't know if it would be right or wrong...but then he
decided he didn't much care if it was wrong or not, he had to do it. He
knelt beside her and drew her onto his lap, pressing her head to his
shoulder and holding her quaking body as tightly as he could, feeling sobs
tightening his own chest. After a second he felt her arms wrap around him
like a vise, her fingers clutching at his jacket. She was still
semi-hysterical and it scared him, but somewhere in the back of his mind he
knew that for someone as emotional as Ace, this was probably a necessary
catharsis. She was still speaking but it was mostly incoherent underneath
her sobs. After a few seconds he realized that her cries of "they're dead,
they're dead" had morphed into "she's dead, she's dead." He wrapped his
arms around her tighter and rocked with her.
"I know, I know," he whispered, pressing his cheek against her
forehead. Tears poured down his cheeks and fell onto her face to mingle
with hers. Ace shifted in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck,
feeling his sobs as well as her own. Together they wept, holding each
other, there on the patio amongst the remnants of flowers that would never
be.