Voices from Heaven

He looked down at the tuft of grass in his hands, fiddling with it, shredding it, suddenly aching for the love he had lost to disease and death, the memory of her turning to ash in his arms still painful and fresh as if it had been only a few days instead of a year. Her name lingered on his lips, yet unspoken, but his heart yearning for her and the quiet calm she had always offered him.

He seemed almost hypnotized when a warm pair of hands engulfed his own, holding them, the slender, feminine thumbs caressing the tops of his knuckles. Jean froze until the soft whisper of her voice soothed the fear in him and gave him that sense of peace that only she had ever been able to give him.

"Why are you so worried, my love?" A tender hand caressed his face from brow to chin. He dared not look up for fear she would vanish, but she lifted his chin and forced his face up to meet hers. The stunning brown eyes of Olivia Fairchild smiled, bringing sunlight into every part of him. She shimmered, as if she were in a dream, golden halos of light emanating from her and spreading warmth along with it.

His eyes searched hers questioningly, his mind unable to understand how he could be seeing her, if she was a dream or a vision or a ghost sent to torment him. Was she good? Was she evil? Had he finally gone completely insane?

She waited patiently, as she always had, for him to say something to her, but he found no words would come. He had no idea how to explain to her what had happened in the year since she had gone, nor how to explain that after all this time and the many years they had together he was about to marry someone else, someone who was not her, and someone he did not even love.

She nodded once in understanding and captured his lips with her own. Jean was suddenly surrounded by light and a warmth he didn't understand, but he neither did he care. He took her offered lips and held them with his own for as long as he could … an hour perhaps, a day, he couldn't tell, he only knew that he wanted their kiss to last forever. Finally Olivia herself withdrew, settling next to him and wrapping both her arms around one of his as she had done a thousand times when they sat together on the beach outside the little beach house he had bought for her.

Jean was surprised to find himself there now, sitting alone with her on that same stretch of beach, the warm sand beneath them, her body pressed closely to his side, the sound of the surf in front of them. Everything was the same, as it had been so many times before, except now there was sunlight. Jean lifted his face to it, feeling it for the first time in decades. The sun. He was sitting in the sun with Olivia. He turned to her, finally able to form a word. "How?"

She gave him a secretive smile. "Call it a gift. One for which I am very grateful." She gave a knowing glance skyward, the mischievous tilt of her head he had seen so often before now meant for someone else. Whoever had given them this gift. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, the movement so familiar that he relaxed entirely. He brushed his lips into her hair, kissing it lightly and inhaling her all-too-familiar scent. Cookies. She always reminded him of just-baked cookies, one of the reasons he had never quite been able to resist tasting every inch of her. For no apparent reason and with no coercion whatsoever, he just began to talk to her.

He told her of the dimensional shifts, the drug that had taken Jack and Baby away and bound them together, the changes in the family, the tensions, the joys, the losses, of Kevin and Nina, of the new children, both human and vampire. He talked endlessly about everything and about nothing. He talked of day-to-day events and future plans, everything except the one thing he needed to talk about. Charlie.

Olivia sat quietly, stroking his arm comfortingly, laughing at the joys, crying at the sorrows and pains, sharing his life again. God, how he had missed her.

When a comfortable silence fell between them, they stared at the waves, the silvery shimmer on the water making strings of diamonds across the deep azure of the ocean's water. Sometimes the Gulf was so muddy and brown, but not today. Today it was as it should always be, that indescribable color that is only seen in Renι's eyes.

"It is rather like that." Olivia's voice was wistful, dreamlike, with that musical lilt to it that always made Jean's knees go weak.

"Like what?" Jean turned to her, both puzzled and fascinated.

"The water. It's just about the color of Renι's eyes."

"How did you … " Jean stopped. He decided that he didn't want to know. He only smiled at her and told her how much he had missed her, how much he ached to have her back again, how much he regretted how their time together had ended so unexpectedly and so painfully. And they kissed again, arms entangling as their lips did, dancing with love for one another and for the fullness of the time they did have together so long ago.

Jean couldn't resist. He laid her back into the sand, as they had done so many times before, and nibbled every inch of her face and neck and throat. Liv giggled at his eagerness and did nothing to discourage him, she only basked in the glow of being with him again, feeling him touch her and kiss her and love her again. It was so different now. Each touch was magical, a tingling triumph of adoration, a lingering mixture of pain and pleasure at what they lost, but each moment cherished for the memories it brought forth. But it went no further than their tender touches and caresses. This was a reminder of love. To mix it with sex right now would have seemed ungrateful, and in some strange way, unholy.

On the strangely abandoned stretch of beach, they held each other, cords of love binding them as they always had, withholding nothing and basking in the quiet passion they had enjoyed for so much of their life together. Memories of the past surrounded them like a golden mist, nurturing them while obliterating the hidden pain of what would never be again.

Her flesh was so warm, just as he remembered it. There was no logic to how she could be here touching and caressing him now, not as a ghostly figure but as a living, breathing woman, her velvet skin and familiar scent making him remember what it felt like to love her more and more and what it felt like to be in love. He hadn't realized until this moment just how much he had cocooned himself from the risks of love since she had gone.

They lay tangled together on the heated sand, the sun still high in the sky keeping away the chill and still not offering even the slightest tinge of harm to Jean. It just wasn't possible. None of it was possible. His usually commanding common sense kept trying to reconcile what was happening, but none of it made sense, and he didn't want to let go of her long enough to really explore the impossible when he feared if he even looked away for a moment she would vanish and he would be left with nothing but the memory of a dream that wasn't real. This felt too real. Everything about it was too real.

Olivia shifted against him, her head resting neatly at his shoulder where even her tiniest whispers could touch his heart. She could feel it in him, the hidden pain and struggle of what was troubling him, the guilt he was almost drowning in.

"Jean?"

"Yes, petite?" The scene felt all too familiar, so natural, and so very, very good. They both smiled to themselves, then Liv's voice became more serious.

"Why are you hesitating?"

"What do you mean?"

"Charlie."

Jean immediately rolled onto his side, facing her, his expression more serious now, his hand resting almost possessively on her hip.

"Liv … I …" He wasn't sure what to say. He just knew everything about it felt wrong. He would need her forever because of that damned bond with her unique blood, but he couldn't in good conscience keep her in this dimension when she belonged and very much wanted to be back in her own world. He had been trying to work through this on his own. He had not been successful at resolving any of it and had only managed to pile more internal guilt on himself.

He sighed. "She's so young, Liv. She's so young and she has so much life she wants to live. She doesn't need to be tied to an old vampire in another dimension. She needs to be back where she feels loved and where she belongs." Words tumbled from his mouth like water from a spring, unstopped but negotiating the rocks and turns of each painful element of the complicated story.

Liv listened, placing her hand over his at her hip, reassuring him with her warmth and unconditional acceptance. She knew what he should do and what he would do, and she also knew that he was so unsure and so guilty about it all that he would talk himself out of it and let himself die so Charlie could have what she wanted instead of what they both needed.

"Tell me about her, Jean. What is she like?"

Jean couldn't help but smile. "Oh she's wonderful, so full of life and excitement, so strong, yet soft in ways that still surprise me. She has a determined sense of duty where slaying is concerned, and though she has adjusted to being around so many vampires, there are times I can almost see her skin crawl in wanting to stake a roomful of us. She's both a child and a warrior … " He paused for a few moments. "And I don't deserve her." He looked away, almost ashamed.

Here Olivia smiled, taking his chin in her delicate fingers and turning his face towards hers. "Now, that is the first untrue thing you've said. You very much deserve her, my love." Her eyes were soft and sincere, and Jean tried to shake them and the way they could see right through him.

"No, Liv, I really don't. She doesn't want to be here or to be bound to someone old enough to be her grandfather. She doesn't love me, and, God knows, I don't love her. She needs to be home, that's what she really wants."

Liv took an almost school teacher demeanor. "Jean Claude DuValliere!" Then she softened, love covering him like a warm blanket. "There is not a woman alive who wouldn't love you and who wouldn't consider herself extremely lucky to be married to you." Her eyes took a mischievous tilt. "I should know." She reached a finger into his rips, tickling him. The music of her laughter filled the air as she pushed him onto his back. They both laughed and tickled and played the little games they used to play when one swore each loved the other more.

When she nestled back into the crook of his shoulder and their playfulness calmed, a comfortable silence settled between them. Deep inside he knew that Liv was right. She usually was. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to argue the case against tying Charlie to an existence she didn't really want.

Jean propped himself on both elbows, staring out at the Gulf and not wanting to look at Olivia, not wanting to see her expression change from love to loathing. He took a deep, unneeded breath. "I hurt her, Liv. God help me, I hurt her." His voice cracked a little under the strain of actually saying it out loud and admitting it to the one woman who had always loved him above all others.

Liv sighed quietly. "I know."

Jean's face snapped toward her. "You knew? Then … then how could you defend me? You know what I did to her! How I hurt her, how I almost ripped her throat out marking her? And why? Because I'm a monster, that's why! I'm an uncontrolled, dangerous monster who doesn't deserve to live, much less live the life every man dreams of with a beautiful and powerful woman at my side!" He stopped, panting in anger. "How can you look at me? How can you tell me I deserve her knowing what I did to her?" His eyes filled with decades of unshed tears, tears for Charlie, tears for Olivia and the life they never had, tears for himself and the now no-doubt-short life he had sentenced himself to by drinking from her.

As the first tear spilled onto his cheek, Liv leaned over him and kissed it away … then the next one and the next one after that. She gathered him into her arms and held him, her soft, gentle lips erasing each tear and absorbing each hurt. He poured it all into her, every regret, every worry, all his self-doubt and especially his guilt. The sun began to wane, casting long shadows across the warm sand. Jean wept into her until there was nothing left to weep, his guilt watered and cleansed by his tears and her calming reassurance that, no matter the mistakes he had made, he was still the most loving and virtuous man she had ever met, and that he deserved to have happiness in this unusual new life he had been given.

They clung to each other in silence until the stars came out and shone on them almost as brilliantly as the sun had. Olivia nestled closer to him, her breath hot on his skin. "Jean, what is the worst that could happen if you claim her, marry her, and she stays here?" She wasn't going to let him off the hook easily after all.

"She'll die." Jean was almost deadpan, detached, as if he couldn't deal with such a thing emotionally so he had to completely remove himself from that possibility.

"And what is the best that could happen?"

He sighed. "We'll fall in love, stay happily married, and if some of the mysteries around her blood are true, even have children."

Olivia smiled fiendishly. "Oh no. A fate so much worse than death … or the risk of death!" She captured his eyes and stayed there, reminding him silently that those are the things she always wanted. "And if she goes back? What will happen?"

Jean closed his eyes, a tinge of pain creasing between them. "She'll … she'll die. Jack said she will die soon." He shivered involuntarily. From Jack's reaction it had not been a good death.

Liv placed her hand along his jaw, cupping his face as she swam in the deep brown depths of his eyes again. She didn't really have to say anything. She could see him working it out for himself, holding back only one more piece to the difficult puzzle of this decision.

"You're right. It is the best thing for her. She'll be safer here and possibly even happy." He looked back at Olivia, still not wanting to admit the regret he had hidden so deeply in his heart. "But …"

"But what? You need her, she needs you, she just doesn't realize it yet."

"But … us, Livvy. We never, I never, I mean …. " Jean sighed heavily. Why was this so hard?

Olivia touched his hand and he was immediately at ease. "Yes, we did."

"No, Liv! It's not right. I never married you, we never got to have children, we didn't get to have the life together that we should have. It's not right for me to do that with someone else."

"Nonsense," she said, forcing him to look at her. "I loved our life together, Jean. I loved everything about it, what we had, just the two of us, Renι, the family, everything. No, we didn't get to have children, but I knew that the first night we were together, before I even knew your name. I knew I wanted us, and I found that the things I thought I had wanted with my life were suddenly not very important anymore. I wouldn't change anything … except … "

"What?" Jean sat up, taking her hands in his and looking as deeply into her as he could.

She got very quiet. "I … I wish sometimes I had let you turn me."

"Liv!" He gathered her into his arms. "Baby, aren't you happy where you are now? Do you want me to have Wes work on a way to bring you back …"

Olivia put her fingertips to his lips. "No, cher." He loved when she called him that. She had so rarely done it, that when she finally did it rolled off her tongue like melted chocolate inviting him to taste her … which he immediately did.

When their lips parted, she continued. "I'm very happy, Jean. More than you can imagine, and for reasons you cannot imagine." She smiled. "It's a glorious place. You will like it when you come." Her smile turned to something almost secretive. "I mean, I wonder sometimes how different it would have been if I had let you turn me instead of … um … instead of what happened."

He kissed her earnestly. "Me too, Livvy. Me too."

She quickly tried to change the mood from regret to something more hopeful. "So, my sweet Jean, we've settled about your bride, right? You'll marry Charlie and use the power it gives you both wisely."

Jean raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't remember us discussing, much less deciding, any such thing … but … you are right."

"Of course, I'm right." She smiled triumphantly. "I'm always right. And … " She caressed his face, handing him her words as if they were a proclamation from God, "You, my love, deserve the love and power that comes with the deva more than any man on Earth. I know, in my heart and in my soul, that you will do what is right by her and by the world. In your noble hands, it will all be right."

Looking at her as if he were trying to memorize her face, gratitude and renewed self-confidence shone from him like the sun itself. "My God, I miss you so much."

"I know." She pitched her voice low, almost seductively. "I am always with you, my love, my heart. Even when you can't see me or feel me, I'm here with you. And I will always come to you when you need me. Always." She kissed him deeply, their lips lingering with the taste of the other.

When Jean felt her kiss fade away he opened his eyes to find himself alone, sitting next to her grave again. The grass was damp beneath him, but he still felt warm inside. He glanced over at her headstone, half expecting to see her sitting on it, and disappointed to see only the cold, glistening stone. He stood, kissed his fingertips, and placed them across the letters of her name. "I love you."

Her voice echoed in his head. "Je t'aime, cher. Toujours."

Jean smiled and brushed the sand from his jeans and feet. Then he paused as he searched for his shoes and socks. Sand. In the cemetery. His smile broadened as he headed back to Rue Royale. Suddenly he was filled with a sense of excitement and glad anticipation. He had a wedding to plan.