Chapter Text
Stardate: 51241.5
Sisko watched from the promenade second level as three flags unfurled over the bustling throng below: Klingon, Federation, and Bajoran.
It was a welcome sight, indeed.
The war wasn’t over. The Dominion had retreated to Cardassian territory, where they were no doubt rebuilding their fleets. And Deep Space Nine, now the designated headquarters for the Ninth Fleet, remained one of the most tempting targets in the Alpha Quadrant.
But for now, at least, the war seemed very far away.
T’Sorra joined him on the crossover bridge, her hands clasped behind her back as usual. “Captain.”
“Commander,” Sisko greeted with a nod. “Enjoying the view?”
T’Sorra cocked an eyebrow. “I am a Vulcan, Captain.”
“Ah.” Sisko smiled. “My mistake.”
“But I do, of course, appreciate the current…atmosphere of celebration,” T’Sorra allowed.
Sisko chuckled. “Do you?”
“It deters crime,” T’Sorra said. She lifted her chin. “As acting chief of security, it is logical to hope this mood continues.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Sisko said.
He sighed. T’Sorra had only been on the job for a day. Though so far, he liked her just fine, it was a bit strange not to have Odo in charge of security.
Still—the station could survive without the constable for a few weeks. Sisko could think of no one more overdue for a vacation.
He just hoped Odo would return.
*
It took three days—three miserable days—for Odo's tremors to subside.
He had requested three weeks’ leave shortly after the captain left his quarters. Or, that was, as soon as he could drag himself to his computer console. He’d made his request with shaking hands, one button press at a time.
While at his console, he’d discovered a message waiting for him.
Kira: Have you told anyone about what happened during the Dominion occupation?
His eyes had widened.
There could be little doubt of what she was referring to.
Odo: Not yet.
He had been…indisposed, to say the least.
Kira: Good. Don’t. I’m leaving it out of my report.
Odo: Why?
While he’d waited for a reply, a tremor had very nearly knocked him from his seat; he’d succumbed, slipping into liquid form to pool across his floor. He’d spent the next three days that way. Every cell in his body still quaked, but it was better than quivering on the floor in full uniform.
At 0800 on the fourth day, he tentatively drew himself up into humanoid form. He waited, bracing himself.
But, it seemed, the tremors had finally gone.
Apparently, he hadn’t needed three weeks after all.
A quick check of his console revealed a reply from Kira, sent a full day after his question.
Kira: I don’t want you court-martialed. Let’s leave it at that.
He couldn’t fathom why she would defend him. But he would abide by her wishes. He owed her that much.
Odo: As you wish, Major.
*
Odo froze on the threshold to Ops, just short of exiting the turbolift.
Kira was at the situation table.
He hesitated, a beat too long.
She looked his way.
It was too late to fashion his usual impassive mask; Odo was sure all his hopes and fears were playing out in plain view on his face.
His hope that things between them could be mended. That he could spend the rest of his days standing at her side—even just as her friend.
I don’t want you court-martialed…
Did that mean he had a chance?
His fear that she could never forgive him, that she could never look at him without seeing a traitor, a collaborator, a defector. That whatever they built from here, it would never be as strong as before.
That they wouldn’t build from here.
Kira broke his gaze, returning her focus to the situation table.
Odo hurried past her.
He ascended the steps to the captain’s office. At his press of the door chime, the doors slid open.
Sisko looked up from his desk. “Constable?”
“Captain,” Odo greeted, lacing his hands behind his back.
“You’re looking better,” Sisko said.
“Yes,” Odo said. “My…affliction…seems to have subsided.”
“That’s good to hear,” Sisko said. “Is there something you need?”
Odo stepped fully into the office, letting the doors shut behind him. “I wanted to let you know that I’m ready to report for duty.”
“Well, then,” Sisko said, leaning back and folding his arms, “we have a problem.”
“Sir?”
“As of three days ago,” Sisko said, “you’re officially on leave.” He tossed up his hands, grinning. “You’re off the roster!”
Odo frowned.
“Constable,” Sisko said, serious now, “you’re on vacation. Enjoy it.” He paused, smiled. “That’s an order.”
Odo shot him a sideways look. “If I’m not mistaken, by your own argument, you can’t give me orders right now.”
“Well, if you want to be miserable for the next two and a half weeks, that’s your prerogative.” Sisko toyed with his baseball. “Now, since we have no station business to discuss…please leave my office.”
Nonplussed, Odo turned to leave. But he stopped just as the doors slid open.
He hadn’t just betrayed Kira. He’d betrayed everyone. Sisko. Dax. Bashir. O’Brien. The entire Alpha Quadrant.
Didn’t Sisko deserve to know the truth?
“Something wrong, Constable?”
Odo hesitated.
There’s something you should know…
The words were just on the tip of his tongue. A phrase he was henceforth and hereafter banning from his vocabulary.
But before he could say a word, Kira glanced up from the situation table.
It was as if his entire world narrowed, and he was aware of nothing else but the strength in her features, the fire in her eyes.
He’d betrayed her the most. She’d asked him not to Link with the Founder, and he’d promised.
He could never break his word with her again.
“No, Captain,” he replied, and let the captain’s office doors shut behind him.
When he next glanced her way, Kira was focused on her work. Odo wasted no time in hurrying for the turbolift.
“Habitat ring,” he ordered.
But as it descended, he found himself oddly…discomfited.
What was he supposed to do with a vacation?
*
As the turbolift descended out of view, Kira snuck one last glance in Odo’s direction.
It was the first she’d seen of him since he’d helped her get to the central core intact.
Since he’d stopped answering his comm.
His exchange with the captain, just before Sisko’s office doors had shut, echoed in her mind.
“You’re looking better.”
“Yes. My…affliction…seems to have subsided.”
Affliction?
Was he okay?
She quickly shut down that thought. Things between them were too complicated right now; worrying about him just hurt.
*
Stardate: 51244.5
“So, uh, that’s why you’re letting him make the plans for the wedding?” Kira asked as she and Dax exited the turbolift.
She’d been concerned at first that this wedding was all about what Worf wanted—that Dax’s desires and Trill heritage weren’t being included. But Dax seemed perfectly happy with it.
“Mostly,” Dax said. “But the truth is, I’ve already been through five Trill ceremonies—three as a bride, two as a groom—and I’m a little bored with it.”
Kira squeezed her shoulder. “As long as you’re happy, Jadzia.”
Dax smiled. “Thanks.”
*
Stardate: 51247.5
“Hey, Major!”
Kira’s face brightened as Jake dashed up to her on the promenade.
“Is it true Dax is having a party tomorrow night?” he asked.
Kira smiled. “Ah, news travels fast!”
“Well, is it by invitation or…?”
“I’m sure you’re welcome,” Kira said. “And you can tell Nog the same goes for him, too.”
Jake clapped his hands together. “Great!”
“Oh, I understand congratulations are in order,” she added, “to our newest published author?”
Jake grinned, chuckling. “Thank you.”
At that moment, a distinctive trio in Klingon ceremonial garb passed by on their way to Quark’s—the captain, the Chief, and Dr. Bashir, all with stalwart, straight faces.
“There they go,” she nodded.
Jake turned.
“They look so serious,” Kira said, brows pinching slightly.
“It’s all an act.” Jake set his hands on his hips, one brow quirking up in skepticism. “They don’t want the rest of us to know what kind of debauchery they’re up to.”
“Like what?”
Jake made a face and leaned close, even as Kira watched the trio disappear into Quark’s. “It’s a Klingon bachelor party,” he said as if it were obvious. “Use your imagination!”
Squinting at him, Kira went on her way down the promenade, shaking her head.
Some things, she probably didn’t want to know.
*
Stardate: 51248.9
It wasn’t often that Kira indulged herself. Let the pressures of her responsibilities fall from her shoulders, immersed herself in fun.
But this was a good party.
Leeta was dancing on a tabletop. Morn and a Bolian were having a blast bouncing off each other’s chests—not twenty minutes after they’d come to blows. Nog was pulling dance moves Kira would never previously have thought were dance moves. And through it all, a unique drumbeat unlike any musical styles from Bajor filled the room.
Dax danced her way, glass in hand; as Nog started poising his fingers like claws and doing a ridiculous impression of a hara cat, Kira couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
With a broad grin across her face and the music thrumming through her veins, she could almost forget her worries.
Almost.
The door swished open, revealing Lt. Commander T’Sorra and a pair of Odo’s deputies.
Kira sighed. She couldn’t decide if she was bracing herself for another encounter with T’Sorra…or glad that it wasn’t Odo.
“Major,” T’Sorra nodded, hands clasped primly behind her back.
“Commander,” Kira said.
“I must inform you that several occupants of the surrounding quarters have logged noise complaints,” T’Sorra said. “This activity has exceeded eighty-seven decibels.”
Kira shot her a mild glance. “Has it?”
“That is in violation of station regulations,” T’Sorra said. “I would be within my right to order this party to cease.”
“Well,” Kira said, “as first officer of this station, I’m ordering this party to continue.” She paused. “And I’m ordering you to leave the premises.”
T’Sorra cocked an eyebrow.
Kira raised her own. “Now, Commander.”
“Very well,” T’Sorra said.
She stepped back through the doors, but not without a prim lift of her chin.
Kira blew out a frustrated breath.
There was something about this new Vulcan security officer that drove her up the wall. That prim attitude. The way she seemed to love quoting station regulations—in a superior way completely unlike Odo’s dour demeanor.
But at least she wasn’t Odo.
At least Kira didn’t have to deal with him.
Right?
Right?
*
Odo sat at the computer console in his quarters, idly scanning the few reports available to him on station activities.
His security access had been cut off a week ago, when his leave had officially begun. He knew why, of course. He understood. Deep Space Nine was a crucial port, and beyond the celebratory atmosphere that still permeated its hull, the Federation was at war. Odo couldn’t access secure files and transmissions while off-duty.
Still, it had him wrong-footed.
A light huff escaped him. Here he was, on leave for another two weeks—on vacation—and still, all he could think to do with his time was pretend he was on duty, reading station reports.
He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of the idea of a vacation. He’d never taken one before. Never indulged in having a life outside of his work.
But maybe that needed to change.
Maybe he needed to cultivate more ties to this Solid world. Immerse himself. Choose this place, fully.
Choose the people here, his friends.
Choose Bajor.
After all, he wasn’t going home.
He scowled at himself. Still, after all these years, after the Dominion had waged a war that had already cost millions of lives, after his people had very nearly cost him everything he’d ever cared about, he automatically thought of the Great Link as home. Still thought of the Link. Still yearned for it.
The Link…the Link…
His eyes fell shut briefly; a sigh traveled through his substance.
Then he opened them again.
Nodded.
“Computer,” Odo said, “display all Bajoran…”
He paused.
All what? All…cultural centers? Nature preserves? Museums? Farming provinces?
Oh, what did it matter? He may have renounced his people and the Dominion, may have chosen Bajor and Deep Space Nine, but he was still a Changeling. Capable of exploring the Bajoran hillsides in whatever form he chose. He didn’t need conventional transportation, accommodations, or travel plans of any sort.
“Display all transports leaving for Bajor within the next two days,” he ordered.
*
Stardate: 51249.7
“With fire and steel,” Sirella spoke, “did the gods forge the Klingon heart…”
Kira had never understood Klingons. But if there was one thing about them she could appreciate, it was the spirituality inherent in their rituals. It was common ground that she had come to accept she would never find with the Federation.
Beyond that, it was wonderful just to see the smile that split Jadzia’s face as she walked up the aisle to stand with Worf.
“Worf,” Sirella said, “son of Mogh, does your heart beat only for this woman?”
“Yes.”
His answer prompted another smile from Jadzia.
“And will you swear to join with her and stand with her against all who oppose you?”
“I swear.”
“Jadzia,” Sirella said, “daughter of Kela, does your heart beat only for this man?”
“Yes,” Jadzia replied.
“And do you swear to join with him and stand with him against all who would oppose you?”
“I swear.”
“Then let all present here today,” Sirella announced, “know that this man and this woman…are married.”
As Jadzia and Worf kissed and applause rose in the audience, Kira couldn’t help her own smile.
There was still a war. Kira spent every day helping Sisko coordinate traffic around the station—especially movements from the Ninth Fleet. But right here, right now, she got to watch her friend find happiness.
It was only after the ceremony, as the audience began to disperse, that Kira spotted Odo slipping surreptitiously out of Quark’s.
She turned, following him. “Odo—”
But he had already disappeared across the promenade.
“Major?” Sisko asked, behind her.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said.
“If you want to catch him, you’d better go now,” Sisko said. “I understand he’s on the passenger list for a transport leaving for Bajor in ten minutes.”
Kira’s eyes widened. “Leaving?”
Sisko smiled. “I believe you’ll find him at airlock three.”
Kira didn’t think.
She dashed for the nearest turbolift.
*
“Odo!”
She caught him in the docking ring, just around the bend from the crowd of passengers already congregating at the airlock.
He stopped in his tracks. When he turned and saw her, a flash of—something—crossed his face.
He drew his hands behind his back. “Major.”
“Odo,” she nodded.
Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say.
What could she say?
Why was he even still here?
After he’d turned from her—why hadn’t he left with the Dominion?
And how, after all the years he’d been her closest friend, was that even a question?
How had everything between them crumbled?
How could she trust him again?
But…how could she lose him?
Odo cleared his throat, dragging her from her thoughts. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“You’re off-duty,” Kira heard herself say.
“I am.”
Kira drew herself straight. Best stand on ceremony; she could fall back on that. “I understand you’re due back on duty in two weeks?”
“That’s right.”
“So…” She searched his gaze. “You are coming back?”
She could’ve sworn his expression softened minutely. “Yes, Major.”
Kira jerked a nod. “Good.”
“But…I expect to return from Bajor before that,” Odo added. “With…your permission, Major.”
Kira nodded again.
“Well.” Odo cleared his throat again. “Permission to disembark?”
Kira’s voice wouldn’t work.
He didn’t need her permission to leave. Not right now. He was on leave.
Still—
“Granted, Constable,” she replied.
Odo jerked a nod, then turned and strode toward the airlock. Kira watched him go, feeling as if the air had been punched out of her chest.
She couldn’t lose him.
But it hurt to keep him, too.