The groundskeeper peered out of the window of his small office and could just make out the small figure heading through the gates of the cemetery. His office was in the old gatehouse, and he usually started his day with a nice steaming cup of coffee. She was back, and he was relieved... She hadn't put in appearance last month and he had been beginning to get worried.
Bill Travers sighed as he watched the woman wind her way through the paths of the cemetery with the ease of long familiarity. Her routine was always the same, he had often longed to approach her and ask her what her story was but had always refrained from doing so. He got the impression that it was too deeply personal, too tragic, for him to bother the woman to ease an old man's curiosity.
Twenty minutes later, he was ready to head out and start his morning inspection of the grounds, it was the responsibility of him and his staff to keep the grounds immaculate and they took that responsibility seriously; this was a place for peace and grief and it should be respected as such.
With meticulous eyes, he scanned the grave markers and the grounds, absently noting the morning dew glistening on the edges of the blades of grass. He noted one or two of the borders seemed to have been trampled; he'd have to remember to get one of the younger men out to repair the damage.
He was still making his inspection when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up from the place where he had been frowning at what appeared to be a gouge in one of the older gravestones - how had that happened? It was the lady. She nodded at him in passing and continued on her way. Bill looked at her retreating figure, speculating as always about the strange mix of emotions that he caught sight of in her eyes.
Slowly - his knees were not what they once were - he rose to his feet and headed off in the direction the woman had come from. He headed towards one of the more infamous of the gravestones in the cemetery. Bill arrived and bowed his head briefly in a moment of respect. The man buried here deserved that much and more; he had been a good man, taken in his prime from a world that could ill afford to lose him.
The assassination at his funeral had caused ripples around the world, and it's affects were still being felt to this day. Qu'on had been somewhat mysterious and definitely aloof but he personally thought that aloof was better than what they had now, Zo'or was, in his humble opinion, dangerous.
Bill looked down at the gravestone, sure enough; she'd brought the same as she always did. He was not an expert on orchids, he didn't really like exotic flowers, but he had a good enough eye to realise the blooms that this woman brought on the third Thursday of every month were both exquisite and expensive. He bent down to straighten out the card and saw its familiar message, I give you these on her behalf, because she cannot. No signature, no name, just the message.
Out in the parking lot, Bill's mystery lady got back into her car, clasped her hands on the steering wheel and briefly laid her forehead down. She took a deep breath and straightened up, turning the key in the ignition and heading back out into the morning traffic.
The woman who had been DeeDee Sandoval let out another sigh, if Lili Marquette were alive today, she would knock her in to next Tuesday for the risk that she was taking, had taken, every third Thursday of every month. Well, apart from last month, when her new job had resulted in her being out of the country...
Well, Lili, you would just have to be angry with me. This is something I have to do. My husband took his wife's life and he saved mine. The least I can do is give him some orchids on her behalf and keep that thread of memory alive.
I'll see you next month, Will Boone, I promise you. I will live the life you've given me, and I will live it well.