Chapter Text
Stardate: 51645.7
Sound was…a bit different, to a Changeling.
Even as an inanimate object—a stone, a branch, a metal sheet, a sculpture—Odo had a sense of hearing. After all, sound waves were just vibrations through a medium. He could feel those vibrations no matter what form he was in.
Interpreting them was another matter. Those vibrations traveled differently through each different medium. He was most familiar with sound in his humanoid form and in his natural state, but when he was something else, he sometimes needed to feel the vibrations a couple of times before he could make sense of them.
So, when his door chimed while he was prowling about his quarters as a Bajoran hara cat, his pointed ears twitched a few times before the meaning of the sound registered.
Odo drew himself up into humanoid form. Since he wasn’t expecting anyone, he went to his door himself and manually keyed it open.
It was Kira.
His substance lurched, every cell in his body straining toward her, drawn by her light.
Then he registered the uncertainty that tightened her features.
“Kira?” he asked.
“I did try your comm,” she said. “Am I bothering you?”
“No,” he said. “Not at all.”
He stepped back from the door, gesturing for her to come inside.
Idly, she scanned his quarters.
“You still have the couch,” she murmured.
“Of course.”
She bit her lip, looking away.
For once in his life, he couldn’t quite parse her expression, her body language. He’d become so attuned to her over the years, he’d gotten quite skilled at reading her moods. Even if she wasn’t looking at him, he could see how she was feeling in her stance, the line of her back, her shoulders. If her face was at the right angle, the set of her jaw.
Now, she was something of a mystery to him.
He fell back on the tried and true. Gesturing to his replicator, he asked, “Can I get you anything?”
“Oh, um…no. Thanks.”
She fell quiet again.
“Kira?” Odo asked. “Is something wrong?”
She hesitated for a beat, then gestured to the couch. “Can we sit?”
“Of course.”
He followed her across the room; he barely even registered sitting down, focused as he was on the way she folded herself onto the cushions. She angled herself to face him, drawing one knee up to her chest, but she still didn’t look at him.
He waited, loath to push her before she was ready. He would wait for her till the universe’s end if she asked it of him.
Finally, she spoke. “Odo…”
“Yes?”
“Remember a few days back, when…I sort of lost my temper? When I didn’t know how to tell you what was wrong? And you suggested that I do something about it?”
He nodded.
Kira glanced up at him. “I found out something. Something terrible. About my mother.”
Odo softened, listening.
“I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you,” she murmured. “You, of all people.”
“Well,” Odo allowed, “things between us were a little…strained…at the time.”
“Not anymore, I hope,” Kira said.
Odo smiled softly. “Not as far as I’m concerned.”
To his surprise, her hand inched across the couch cushions to meet his.
“The thing is, Odo,” she said, “you’re not just my best friend—if there’s anyone in the world who knows what it’s like to find out something terrible about someone important to you, it’s you.”
Odo’s matrix clenched.
Kira’s fingers squeezed his. “I found out…my mother slept with Dukat. For seven years.”
Odo’s eyes widened.
“She did it to make sure her family was fed,” Kira said softly. “Or, at least, that’s the kindest reason. She was snatched from us and brought to Terok Nor as a…comfort woman. She was told that if she cooperated, her family would be treated well…but if she didn’t…”
Kira trailed off.
“A difficult choice,” Odo said.
Kira sighed. “I hope it was. But I…I was with her, Odo. I saw the way she interacted with Dukat. She didn’t seem all that miserable. She even told me once that…he was different from what she expected.”
Odo frowned. “Wait. You were…with her? How?”
“Through the Orb of Time.”
Odo blinked.
“Sisko helped me get access,” she said. “As the Emissary.”
Odo nodded slowly. “I see…”
Kira tilted her head, peering at him. “Do you?”
“I’m…just a little confused about the logistics,” Odo said. “Why seek the Orb of Time? What made you think…?”
Kira’s gaze fell back to her lap. “Dukat contacted me personally. On my mother’s birthday.”
Odo reeled back. “Why wasn’t I aware of this?”
“I didn’t report it,” Kira said.
“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t report it,” Odo said. “You’re telling me Gul Dukat sent an unauthorized transmission to Deep Space Nine, and I didn’t catch it?”
A tiny smile teased Kira’s mouth. “Nothing happened to me, Odo.”
His tension drained.
How did she always manage to disarm him so easily?
“After the Orb,” Kira said, “I went to Sisko—I suppose I thought he’d understand the most. As the Emissary. But then I realized that you would understand the most.”
Odo sighed.
“And then,” Kira added, squeezing his fingers, “I realized something else.”
He looked up at her. “What’s that?”
She held his gaze. “That I understand.”
Odo’s brows pinched.
“What you went through,” she clarified, her eyes never leaving his. “Why you’re so drawn to your people. How much it hurts to know who they are.”
Odo’s eyes fell shut.
And then, she did the unexpected.
He wasn’t even sure what was happening at first. Her fingers squeezed his again, and then she was shifting toward him on the cushion, and then he felt her warm touch on his shoulder. And then there was a line of warmth pressed up against him, from his shoulder all the way down to his hip and to his knee, even as gentle pressure slipped across his abdomen.
Every cell of his body froze. He dared not draw breath, for fear he’d disturb this fragile reality.
Tentatively, wonderingly, he opened his eyes.
Her chin was resting on his shoulder, her body pressed up against his side, her arm across his middle.
She was hugging him.
No, this wasn’t a hug. Hugs involved arms, and a lot less intimate body contact.
This was…
He didn’t know what this was.
All he knew was that he never wanted her to leave.
“Kira,” he rasped.
When had his voice gone so shaky?
Her only answer was a gentle squeeze—not of his hand, as he had become accustomed to, but of the arm she had around him.
His eyes slipped shut again. His head tipped back against the couch. His substance trembled beneath her, his matrix not so much clenching as quivering—but not in a painful way, not in a way that made him fear for his hold over his shape. More…tension and release. Relief.
Was this what humanoids meant by comfort?
He realized, only now, that he’d never quite understood the concept. Oh, he understood it on some level—a surface-level, textbook understanding. One couldn’t live amongst such social creatures for nearly three decades, observing their behavior and assimilating into their society, without developing some understanding.
But at the end of the day, he was an outsider. Alone. He always had been. Even when he’d found his people, the nature of his existence was inescapable—the Solids didn’t understand what he was, and his people didn’t understand who he was.
He had never gotten close enough to anyone to experience comfort. Never known how to let down his guard. And no one had ever reached the extra distance it took to see past his unfinished features, his alien nature, and see something of his burdens within themselves.
Now, Kira had.
Kira.
Prophets, how he loved her.
He sucked in a hesitant, shaky breath, wary of disturbing the silence. When she still didn’t move, he did—tentatively, he covered her hand on his middle with his, and lifted his other arm to wrap around her back.
She sighed.
“…Nerys,” he whispered.
There was no other name that would suit.
“I’m here, Odo,” she said quietly. “I’m here.”
*
Stardate: 51653.3
“I get it,” Kira suddenly said.
Odo blinked in confusion.
They were in his office, him seated behind his desk, her in her chair, heel hooked over the edge of his desk, her raktajino mug warming her hands. Up till now, he’d merely been enjoying her company in silence as he read the morning’s reports.
“Why you were driven to the Founder,” Kira clarified.
Odo’s eyes widened, almost in alarm.
Where was this coming from?
“I was just thinking about what you said…Prophets, it was months ago, now,” Kira said. “About being afraid. About the resistance I started during the Dominion occupation.”
Odo just stared at her.
“That was when you let slip that you—”
She stopped, pressing her lips shut, her eyes wide with concern.
“—buried you,” Odo finished, curt.
“I just mean,” Kira said, “you’d lost me once, and I didn’t realize how that impacted you. I can’t even blame you for getting angry with me, for inciting that brawl. And turning to the Founder…I can see why you’d seek solace.” She tipped her head back against the seat crest. “Prophets, I’ve been so blind.”
Odo couldn’t find his voice.
When had she started to see him so clearly?
How was this…how was this even possible?
Kira lifted her head, caught the look on his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“On the contrary,” Odo said softly, “Nerys…you amaze me.”
Kira’s smile spread across her face like the breaking dawn, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
*
Stardate: 51671.7
Kira’s fingers were brushing against his shoulder.
It was an innocent touch. Light. Friendly. Perfectly appropriate for their current setting—settled on the couch in the lounge within the captain’s office, discussing Dr. Bashir’s recent abduction by Section 31.
And yet, Odo was struggling to focus.
She was seated casually, angled toward him, her arm resting on the couch’s crest. But she was seated just close enough to him that her fingers grazed the fabric of his facsimile uniform.
Did she even realize that she wasn’t touching his clothes—she was touching him?
That light graze of her fingers sent shivers tingling down his arm, through his substance.
“…one minute he’s interrogating me under suspicion of being a Dominion spy,” Bashir said, dragging Odo from his thoughts. “The next, he’s trying to recruit me!”
“I’ll say one thing for this fellow, Sloan,” Odo muttered. “He’s clever. He timed your abduction to coincide with your trip to the medical conference. That way you weren’t missed.”
“Yes,” Bashir agreed. “He’s clever.”
The doctor was seated in one of the chairs opposite the couch, slumped slightly against the wall with exhaustion.
“We went over Julian’s quarters,” Kira said, “but we couldn’t find any residual transporter signatures. So, either they got him off the station another way, or they have transporter technology that we can’t detect.”
Odo grimaced. It wasn’t an appealing notion.
“Captain,” Bashir asked, “is there any word from Starfleet about Sloan? Or Section 31?”
Sisko sighed. He had his back turned, hands clasped behind him.
“There’s no record of a Deputy Director Sloan anywhere in Starfleet,” he said. “And as for Section 31, that’s a little more complicated.”
He turned.
“Starfleet Command doesn’t acknowledge its existence,” he said, “but they don’t deny it either. They simply said they’d look into it and get back to me.”
“When?” Bashir asked.
“They didn’t say.”
“That sounds like a cover-up to me,” Kira said.
Bashir shook his head, troubled. “I can’t believe the Federation condones this kind of activity.”
Odo, however, wasn’t surprised at all.
“Personally,” he said, “I find it hard to believe they wouldn’t.”
Bashir frowned at him.
Odo gestured with one hand—the one not currently tingling from Kira’s touch on his arm. “Every other great power has a unit like Section 31. The Romulans have the Tal Shiar. The Cardassians had the Obsidian Order.”
Bashir lifted a finger. “But what does that say about us?” He stood, paced. “When push comes to shove, are we willing to sacrifice our principles in order to survive?”
Odo found it oddly relieving to hear a trace of the young, idealistic doctor he’d once known, the one who had irritated him and Kira to no end years ago. Bashir had matured considerably—and become nearly cynical. It didn’t suit him.
“I wish I had an answer for you, Doctor,” Sisko said.
“Maybe we should do some checking,” Kira said. “Try to track down this Sloan ourselves.”
Odo shook his head. “That won’t be easy. If he’s right and Section 31 has existed since the birth of the Federation, they’ve learned to cover their tracks very well.”
“We don’t have to find them,” Sisko said.
Three heads turned his way.
“They’ll come to us.” Sisko approached Bashir. “You said that Sloan tried to recruit you.”
“I turned him down,” Bashir said.
“He doesn’t strike me as a man who takes no for an answer,” Sisko said. “The next time he asks you to join his little group, you will say ‘Yes.’”
“Well,” Odo smirked as he and Kira stood, “congratulations, Doctor. Looks like you’re going to get to play a spy after all. Only this time, for real.”
Kira accompanied him into Ops, then into the turbolift. As soon as they descended out of view, she flashed him a secret smile.
“What?” Odo asked.
Her smile spread. “Nothing. Just…you.”
Odo was sure his own delight was clear as day on his face—and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Once, seemingly a lifetime ago, he would have squirmed at the thought of being so transparent. Even with her. But how could he feel anything but wonder, when she smiled at him like that on the regular?
How could her affection be anything but good?
Stardate: 51707.2
Odo stood in the corner of the wardroom, his arms folded over his chest, as he watched various crew filter in through the doors and scan the list of names displayed on the monitor.
The list of casualties.
He wasn’t sure why he was here. Beyond the hull of this station, Odo had few ties to the Alpha Quadrant—at least, not personal ties. Not people. Not names he could find in a casualty report.
And yet, here he stood, week after week. Every Friday morning, when the captain posted those names.
“Odo?”
He looked up at the sound of Kira’s voice. She approached, setting a tentative hand on his shoulder.
“You alright?”
Odo sighed, looking away. “I…don’t know.”
She gave his shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. His substance rippled beneath her fingertips, soothing the churn of his matrix.
On the edge of his awareness, Dax entered the room, Worf at her side. Odo watched as her finger skimmed the list…and stopped on a name near the bottom.
Her shoulders sagged.
Dax meandered toward the couch on the other side of the room, Worf close on her heels. But Odo had already angled his head to peer out the oval window next to him, his gaze drifting among those distant stars.
Kira’s hand traveled down his arm to squeeze his fingers. Odo squeezed back in thanks.
He may not know what had his matrix in knots, why he was even here in this room, but he appreciated her support.
*
Dax sank onto the couch cushion, grateful for Worf’s hand on her shoulder.
Benjamin made his way over. “Who is it, Dax?”
She sighed. “Leslie Wong.”
“The skipper of the Cairo?”
“She was an instructor at the Academy when I was a sophomore,” Dax murmured.
Wong had been a good instructor. Bright, brilliant, cheerful, and always capable of bringing humor into even the driest subjects. A good listener, too. And now she was gone. Just another life among thousands lost in this war, another flame snuffed out.
As Worf’s hand migrated to catch hers, Julian approached. “Do you know what happened to the Cairo?”
“No,” Benjamin said. “Just that she disappeared on patrol in the Romulan Neutral Zone. I’ll look into it.”
“Don’t bother,” Dax snapped. “I’m sure it’s the same old story. The Jem’Hadar crossed the Romulan border and caught them by surprise. It’s only about the hundredth time it’s happened!”
There was a near-permanent furrow in Julian’s brow. “I can’t believe the Romulans allow them to violate their territory so brazenly. Why do they get away with it?”
“The Romulans have a treaty of nonaggression and friendship with the Dominion,” Benjamin said. “So they’re willing to turn a blind eye to almost anything in the name of friendship.”
“What we need to do,” Julian said, “is bring the Romulans into the war on our side. With the combined forces of the Federation, the Klingons, and the Romulans, we could finally go on the offensive.”
“That’s the last thing the Romulans want,” Dax said. “Think about it! They’re in the perfect position. They get to sit back and watch as their biggest rivals slug it out in a long, bloody war. No one’s threatening their interests. Why should they risk their necks?”
Cold fury prickled beneath her skin, even as she registered the somber, downtrodden looks on her friends’ faces.
“There’s simply no reason for them to get involved in our war,” she said. “No reason at all.”
*
Stardate: 51707.9
It was midnight when Sisko found himself at the Ops situation table, along with Dax, Kira, and Worf.
The Dominion had invaded Betazed.
Kira had woken him over the comm with the news from Starfleet Command.
“According to initial reports,” Sisko said, “the invasion force must have come from somewhere in the Kalandra Sector.”
“Did Starfleet Intelligence know anything about the buildup?” Dax asked.
“No,” Worf replied. “They believed Kalandra was too far from the Dominion supply lines to be a threat.”
“There’s plenty of blame to go around,” Sisko said. He gestured in barely restrained frustration. “The Tenth Fleet was supposed to be protecting Betazed and its outlying colonies, but it was caught out of position on a training exercise. What’s worse—Betazed’s own defense systems are obsolete and undermanned. The planet was theirs in less than ten hours.”
Kira sighed. “With Betazed in the hands of the Jem’Hadar, the Dominion is in a position to threaten Vulcan, Andor, Tellar, Alpha Centauri…”
“If we ever needed a new ally,” Dax said, “it’s right now.”
*
USS Enterprise-E
Deanna Troi knew who was at her door before it slid open. Captain Picard’s mental signature was unique in its blend of passion and discipline—and in the way that, unlike most humans, his emotions didn’t press against her mind. His presence was restrained, easy to filter out as she waded through the myriad mental impressions that surrounded her.
Until now.
His mood was somber. Heavy. There was a deep exhaustion in his presence that went beyond the burdens of his command. And, tonight, sadness.
Sympathy.
A deep, soft sympathy that transcended things like duty, formality, standing on ceremony.
His eyes caught hers, and Deanna clapped a hand over her mouth.
“My mother?” she asked.
“Betazed has fallen to the Dominion,” Picard said. “Your mother’s fate is unknown.”
Deanna sucked in a deep breath, fighting for composure.
In the months since the Dominion had invaded the Alpha Quadrant and plunged the Federation into war, the mood on board the Enterprise had become heavy, fearful, oppressive. It had been overwhelming, at first. So much fear and grief pressing against her mind. She’d spent a few days in her quarters, drowning herself in chocolate sundaes and just trying to breathe.
But, soon enough, she’d become accustomed to that bombardment. Numbed. She’d learned to filter it out. Composure became easy.
It wasn’t easy anymore.
“What about her child?” Deanna asked. “My baby brother?”
“We don’t know.”
Deanna’s hand clenched over her mouth.
As her own emotions swelled within her, the impressions surrounding her swirled into an amorphous mass, indistinguishable, seeming to merge and mingle with her own mind until she could barely tell where her consciousness ended and the outside world began. Her barriers quivered against the onslaught, seemingly built on pillars of sand.
“Deanna,” Picard said softly.
She sniffled. Forced herself to look him in the eye.
“You’re off the duty roster for the next few days,” he said. “If you need anything…”
If it were anyone else, they’d be offering her useless words. Apologies and condolences and empty platitudes, the sort that got humans through difficult times. The sort that worked when emotions were things that stayed in your head, and weren’t touched by everyone else around you.
Captain Picard wasn’t Betazoid. He was, in fact, emotionally minimalist—at least on the surface. But he knew when words were empty.
“Thank you, Captain.” Her voice choked, and she stepped back from the door. “Excuse me.”
Picard nodded. “Get some rest.”
The door slipped shut. But Deanna barely noticed as she sank into her sofa, her head buried in her hands.
*
Stardate: 51708.1 | Deep Space Nine
Odo was pooled across his floor in liquid form when he registered his door chime.
He drew himself up into humanoid form and, as was his habit with unexpected guests, opened the door himself. But the sight of Kira across his threshold chased all such reticence from his mind.
“Kira,” he greeted, certain his face was lighting up at the sight of her and not minding in the slightest. “Come in.”
It was only when she stepped inside that he registered the somber sympathy on her face.
“Has something happened?” he asked.
“Yes.” She reached for his hand; his fingers tingled at the feeling. “Let’s sit down.”
She led him to the couch in the corner. As Odo settled next to her, he noticed that her stance remained stiff—both feet on the floor, leaning forward, elbows on her knees.
“Odo,” she said, “we just got word from Starfleet. Betazed has fallen to the Dominion.”
Odo’s breath stuttered.
Betazed.
“Lwaxana…?” he asked.
“We don’t know.”
A shiver passed through his matrix and escaped as a hitch of breath.
He hadn’t loved Lwaxana. But he had cared for her, deeply—enough to marry her, in front of all his friends, if it meant helping her escape her husband and keep her child. It was the closest he’d come, before his choice to remain here in the occupation’s aftermath, to letting down his guard among his friends.
And as he’d spoken on that dais, as per Tavnian custom, of how much she meant to him, he’d almost convinced himself that his feelings ran deeper.
A warm touch on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts. “Odo?”
“She left because I didn’t love her the way she wanted,” he rasped. “If she’d stayed—”
“—she would’ve evacuated with the rest of the Federation when the Dominion took Deep Space Nine,” Kira said. “This isn’t your fault.”
“What isn’t my fault?” Odo asked. “We don’t even know what happened to her! If she’s dead, or—”
Or worse.
When compared to the prospect of life under Dominion rule, death would be merciful.
“I know,” Kira murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Odo’s eyes slipped shut.
“Odo?”
He looked at her.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“I…I know it was a marriage of convenience,” Kira said. “You told us as much, after that impromptu party Quark threw. But…she still meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”
Odo nodded. “She was the first person to accept me as I was. To enjoy what I was.”
Kira squeezed his shoulder.
“I wished I could love her,” he added quietly. “She was…right there. Available, willing. She wanted me. No one had ever wanted me like that before. And you were happy with Shakaar. I thought, why couldn’t I just embrace what she offered? Why couldn’t I just—”
He cut off.
Kira’s fingers stroked lightly over the back of his hand. “You alright?”
He captured her fingers in his. “I’ll…manage.”
If only he could mourn her. If only he could definitively know her fate.
Her loss wouldn’t devastate him—not like Kira’s would.
It was the not knowing that had his substance quivering beneath Kira’s touch.