Chapter Text
Odo was working at the console in his quarters when his door chimed.
He crossed to his door in a heartbeat. The only person who came by unannounced these days was Kira.
At his press of the lock, the door slid open to admit her.
There was something different about her, this time. After a moment’s hesitation in his doorway, she stepped over the threshold, her eyes smoldering.
Odo’s breath caught.
Her hands found his. “Let’s go to the couch.”
She led him across the room, and Odo was helpless to do anything but follow. Then she sank down onto the cushions, and he settled next to her, aware of little else but her fingers clasping his, her eyes burning with intent.
“Odo?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“You remember what your counterpart said to me?” she asked. “You know…from Gaia?”
“Of course.”
“Will you say it to me now?”
Odo’s eyes widened.
She squeezed his fingers. “I want to hear it from you, Odo. In this life, this timeline.”
His breath caught in his throat.
“Please?”
“You—” His voice caught. “You mean that?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes locked with his, and he was magnetized.
“I love you, Nerys,” he whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”
She smiled.
That reaction to his confession was already an assault on his senses. But then she scooted toward him. Her free hand reached for his face, caressed his cheek, and she leaned closer, closer, closer—until, in a spark of sensation heretofore unimaginable, she pressed her lips to his.
Every thought in Odo’s mind turned to static.
A brief spark of fear jolted him—could this be a trick? Could the Founder be impersonating her? Could—
No. He’d feel the Founder’s substance against his lips.
Then Kira pulled back, her eyes shining.
“Nerys—”
“I love you,” she said.
Odo blinked.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Those three impossible words reverberated through his substance, and he could do little else but stare at her in wonder. There was nothing but sincerity in the warm, brown eyes that held his.
“Nerys,” Odo rasped.
Her hand was still cupping his cheek, tingling on his skin, as tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I love you,” she said. “Odo, I lo—”
He wrapped her in his arms and crushed his mouth to hers.
Her gasp was music to his ears. Fireworks burst in his matrix as her fingers gripped the nape of his neck, curled into his hair. As her other hand released his fingers only for her arm to wind its way around his back and clutch him to her, as her mouth moved against his, catching and releasing in a silken slide that fulfilled every fantasy he’d ever dared imagine.
He’d thought the Link was paradise.
The Link couldn’t compare to the utter joy of holding Kira in his arms.
*
Stardate: 51724.7
Vic Fontaine’s lounge was like nothing Kira knew from Bajor. The colored lights over the stage, the classy atmosphere, the music style, were all a far cry from the warm, meditative tones of her homeland.
But Kira wasn’t complaining. Not when her arm was threaded through Odo’s, her chin resting against his shoulder, and she could feel him swaying slightly to the music.
“You’re nobody…till somebody…looooooves you…” Vic sang.
And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Odo dipped down to press a kiss to her temple.
Kira’s smile bloomed across her face, and she couldn’t help releasing his arm to wrap both her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. She swore she felt a shiver ripple across his form in response.
An elbow nudged her side, and Kira reluctantly lifted her head to find Jadzia watching her, brows lifted expectantly.
Kira just raised her brows in turn, shrugged, and listed her chin against Odo’s shoulder, closing her eyes.
“…get yourself somebody….” Vic was singing. “…find yourself somebodyyyyy…somebody…to love.”
The band hit a closing note to claps from the holographic audience. Kira reluctantly separated herself from Odo to join in.
“Thank you!” Vic said into his mic. “Hey, it’s been four hundred years, but that little number still works for me.”
Kira frowned slightly.
Four hundred years…since the Vegas era, on Earth? How could a hologram be aware he was displaced from it?
“Isn’t he terrific?” Julian asked.
“I prefer Klingon opera,” Worf stated, earning himself an elbow from Jadzia.
“C’mon,” Julian said, grinning. “I’ll introduce you.”
Kira blinked. “Uh—to a hologram?”
“Doctor,” Odo asked, “is this really necessary?”
“Trust me,” Julian smirked, “he’s no ordinary hologram.”
As Kira shot a glance Odo’s way, Julian waved Vic down from the stage. “Vic!”
Vic meandered over through the tables.
“You’re terrific,” Julian said, shaking his hand. “Great!”
“Thanks, Doc,” Vic smiled.
Kira squinted. Doc?
“Wonderful,” O’Brien said.
“Very nice,” Jadzia added.
Vic adjusted his bowtie. “I know what you’re thinking. He has pretty sweet pipes for a light bulb.”
Jadzia frowned. “Light bulb?”
“That’s what I am, right?” Vic said, spreading his hands even as Julian watched smugly. “A collection of photons and force fields? You know, your basic heuristic, fully interactive hologram?”
Kira blinked.
“He knows he’s a hologram?” O’Brien asked.
“Felix designed him that way,” Julian said. “Thought it would give him the right attitude for the era.”
Now Vic’s comments were starting to make sense.
“If you’re going to work Vegas in the ’60s, you better know the score,” Vic said. “Otherwise, you’re gonna look like a Clyde.”
Kira’s brows pinched. “A Clyde?”
“A Harvey, you know.”
Kira didn’t know. From Odo’s look, neither did he.
“Harvey?” Worf asked.
“A square,” Vic said.
Blank looks from the others.
“You know what a square is, right?” Vic said.
“It’s one side of a cube,” O’Brien tried.
Vic chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I guess that answers my question.” Without missing a beat, he turned to Julian. “Where are your manners, Julian? Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your entourage?”
“I am so sorry,” Julian said. “Commanders Dax and Worf,” he gestured, “this is Vic Fontaine.”
Vic shook hands with them each. “How long have you kids been married?”
Jadzia’s smile froze.
Worf squinted. “How did you know we were married?”
“When you sing in as many joints as I have,” Vic said, “you become a student of the human heart.”
That, at least, sounded like a hologram talking. He didn’t even seem to notice that neither Jadzia nor Worf were human.
Then his attention shifted to O’Brien. “Don’t beat yourself up, pally. Just because you miss your wife doesn’t mean you’ve gone blind.”
“Uh—” O’Brien squinted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Vic said, gesturing around him, “there are a lot of very attractive ladies in the room, and it’s alright to look at them as long as you don’t touch.”
O’Brien coughed an awkward laugh. “He’s good.”
As Julian smiled in knowing agreement, Vic’s gaze landed on Kira herself—and Odo. He looked them over for a split second before a smile lit his face.
“And as for you two,” he said, “I’ve never seen anything more right.”
Kira gave into her own smile. “Well, that makes two of us.”
At her words, Odo’s arm curled tenderly around her waist, drawing her close. Kira didn’t miss Julian’s devilish grin, but she ignored it, tucking her chin back into Odo’s shoulder.
*
She should’ve known Julian Bashir wouldn’t let it go.
He accosted them as soon as they got down the spiral staircase to the promenade floor of Quark’s bar. “Alright, how long has this been going on?”
Odo feigned ignorance—though the hand he still had on the small of Kira’s back ruined the effect. “How long has what been going on?”
“Oh, come on, Odo,” Julian said, grinning. “You and Kira!”
Odo glanced Kira’s way.
Deferring to her.
But then she caught the look in his eyes. The sliver of vulnerability—of fear?—that lurked in those sparkling depths.
She’d have to ask him about it later. But for now—
“Two days,” she said, smiling.
Julian’s gaze was still jumping uncertainly between them.
“And no,” she added, “it’s not a secret.” Her chest tightened, and she looked to Odo. “Unless—?”
“No,” Odo said. “It’s not a secret.”
Grinning, Julian made an immediate beeline for the Chief. Kira caught Odo’s light sigh.
“Odo,” she said, “you didn’t have to—”
“No, Nerys, it’s alright,” Odo said softly. “The others were going to find out sooner or later.”
Kira frowned. “You don’t sound happy about that.”
“It’s not that.” There was a troubled look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite parse. “It’s just…”
He trailed off, his gaze locked on the deck plating.
Kira reached for his hand. His eyes flicked briefly to hers, a tiny smile twitching on his face, but it was nowhere near the reassurance she was hoping for.
Unfortunately, she was due in Ops.
“Hey,” she murmured, squeezing his fingers. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Odo nodded. “You know where to find me.”
*
They didn’t talk later.
A starship from the Ninth Fleet returned from battle exercises with phaser burns on its hull and a radiation leak, which sent the senior staff scrambling for explanations and repairs. Security was on high alert, keeping Odo glued to his desk with a mountain of reports to file.
It was long past midnight when he returned to his quarters. If Kira contacted him, he didn’t know—his combadge lost cohesion the moment he stepped through his door, and he pooled across his floor, as dead to the world as a Changeling could get.
Kira, for her part, returned to her own quarters, and was out the moment her head hit her pillow.
Stardate: 51728.7
Barely a week later, Kira gathered with the rest of the senior staff in the wardroom as the captain reported on the tactical display.
“The Dominion has solidified its hold in the Kalandra Sector,” he said. “They’re trying to establish a supply line running through Betazoid space into the Argolis Cluster.”
“If they succeed,” Worf said, standing next to him, “they will be able to launch an attack against Vulcan.”
Sisko made for the wardroom table. “Starfleet’s going to try to cut them off near the Tibor Nebula. The Seventh Fleet will be engaging the enemy in the morning.”
As he spoke, the senior staff took their seats. Kira was mildly gratified when Odo chose a seat next to her.
She’d barely gotten a chance to see him over the last few days, busy as she’d been in Ops. And not for lack of trying. But every time she thought she’d found a moment to so much as slip down to the replimat for a bite—and drop by his office while she was at it—something came up that kept her glued to the Ops situation table.
She was starting to wish Ops didn’t have a replicator. Then even duty would have no excuse.
“The Seventh Fleet is still at half-strength,” Dax said. “They took heavy losses at Sybaron.”
“Well,” Sisko said, hands folded over the crest of his chair, “let’s just hope they can get the job done.”
Kira sighed.
“On a happier note,” Sisko added, “I do have a bit of good news.”
“That makes a welcome change,” Bashir said.
Sisko’s brows twitched up slightly. “The Romulans have forced the Dominion to retreat from the Benzite system.”
“That is good news,” Odo agreed. He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands. “The question is, will the Romulans be willing to leave Benzar after the war is over? Once they capture territory, they very rarely give it up.”
“Right now,” Sisko said, “we need to concentrate on beating the Dominion. We’ll worry about the Romulans later.”
Odo dipped his head, hands spread in acquiescence.
“As some of you already know,” Sisko added, “Major Kira, Jake, and I will be leaving for Bajor at 2200.”
Dax raised a brow Kira’s way. “There’s a war on. This isn’t a time for a vacation.”
Kira smiled. “The archaeologists excavating B’Hala have found something they want the Emissary to see.”
“We’ll be returning tomorrow night,” Sisko said. “That’s all, people.”
At his dismissal, the others dispersed. Odo stood and straightened his uniform, but to Kira’s relief, he merely turned and leaned against the edge of the table, a tiny, hopeful smile gracing his mouth.
“ ‘Will the Romulans leave Benzar?’ ” Kira teased. “You love to bring up the worst case scenario in these meetings, don’t you?”
“Somebody has to,” Odo said. “Besides—”
She pulled him down for a kiss.
He relaxed against her, the tension draining from the lines of his body. When she pulled away, he was blinking back at her, his eyes wide with awe.
Kira had to admit, she loved putting that look on his face.
“Nerys,” he finally murmured.
“I love you,” she said.
The look in his eyes was impossibly soft as he lifted one hand and traced the backs of his fingers down her cheek. But then something else encroached in that sparkling gaze—something distant.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing that,” he admitted. His fingers trembled against her skin. “Nerys—”
She caught his hand, steadying it. His eyes slipped shut with a sigh.
“There’s a part of this that doesn’t feel real,” he said softly. “Like I’m in a dream. Like any minute now, this bubble will burst, and—”
She stood and pressed close, cutting him off with a finger to his lips.
“It’s real, Odo,” she said. “I’m real.”
“I…I know.” His eyes lowered. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I have everything I never believed I could have.” Gently, he placed his hands on her waist. “I have you in my arms. Those three words—” He cut off with a strangled sound. “I should be happy. I am happy. I—I shouldn’t be…panicking.”
Kira caressed his cheek, relishing the way he pressed into her touch and wishing for all the world that they had time.
But she had to be at airlock three in half an hour.
She drew him close to lean his forehead against hers. “We’ll find our way through, alright? I promise.”
“I love you,” Odo whispered.
She cupped the nape of his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. All too soon, though, she forced herself to draw back and put space between them.
“I have to go,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Odo nodded. “Of course, Nerys.”
She allowed herself a parting squeeze of his hand before leaving the wardroom.
*
Bajor
As Sisko’s fingers brushed the stone of the tablet, a familiar dreamlike glow overtook the cavern.
His pulse pounded.
“The Sisko has come,” the ranjen said, behind him.
Sisko whipped around.
“It is time,” said Kira.
Jake approached his other side. “The Reckoning must begin.”
“The Reckoning?” Sisko asked.
“Much will depend on the Sisko,” said Kira’s image.
“He is corporeal,” said the ranjen.
“Limited,” Jake added.
“He is the Sisko.” Kira crossed behind him. “He will not waver.”
“He is of Bajor,” Jake said.
Kira crossed the other way. “He will bring the Reckoning.”
“What is it you expect of me?” Sisko asked.
“It will be the end,” the ranjen said.
“…of Kosst Amojan,” said Kira.
“And its false vessel,” added Jake.
“Bajor,” the ranjen said, “must not fall.”
“I don’t understand!” Sisko cried.
Kira walked up to look into his face. “The Sisko will know.”
Then light eclipsed his mind—just before the world went dark.
*
Deep Space Nine
Dax tapped at her tricorder as she scanned the stone slab. “I had a pretty good idea what this was the minute I laid eyes on it.”
The tricorder beeped a result.
“That confirms it,” she said. “It’s a slab of stone with some writing on it.”
“Dax,” Benjamin groaned.
“What do you want me to say, Benjamin?” Dax paced over to her lab console—not that the analysis there had any answers either. “I’m not picking up any residual energy readings—certainly nothing that would explain how it threw you across the room!”
Benjamin, though, barely seemed to hear her. “I want you to translate the inscriptions.”
Dax sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
He handed her a PADD. “The ranjen’s translation program. It’s not complete, but at least it’s a start.” He looked her in the eye. “Good luck.”
Just to sass him, Dax blew him a kiss.
She held a premier distinction in exoarchaeology. That didn’t mean that translating thirty-thousand-year-old inscriptions would be easy.
*
Finally, Kira had a proper lunch break.
But only because she was back from Bajor early. And that was because the Emissary had been thrown across the cavern floor and lost consciousness when he tried to touch that tablet.
She hunched over the replimat table, shoulders slumped as she pushed her food listlessly around her plate.
“Nerys?”
At that familiar, gravelly voice, her eyes fell shut. Then she looked up at her partner, mustering a smile.
Hesitantly, Odo settled into the seat across from her, as if he expected her to reject him at any moment. He seemed to deliberate for a moment before reaching across the table for her hand.
Kira took it, twining their fingers together.
“I heard about the captain,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” And she was—Dr. Bashir had cleared the captain shortly after they’d returned. At least, she wasn’t worried about him.
Odo was sitting quietly, listening, his eyes never leaving her face.
Normally, she wouldn’t hesitate to confide in him.
But would he understand?
Would the captain’s vision matter to him? Sisko had spoken of a “Reckoning”—would Odo dismiss that as meaningless?
Well…she had to give him a chance, didn’t she?
She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze before admitting, “It’s not the captain I’m worried about.”
“Then what?”
“He had a vision,” she said. “The Prophets spoke to him. They said something about a Reckoning.”
He tilted his head. “A reckoning?”
“That’s all we know,” Kira said. She paused. “You know about the tablet we brought back, right?”
They’d brought aboard an object that had essentially attacked the captain. Odo himself hadn’t been present, but certain security measures had been taken.
Odo nodded. “Of course.”
“It’s in the science lab right now,” Kira said. “Dax is translating the inscriptions.” She sighed. “Nothing against Jadzia, but…it just seems like a cold way to study an ancient artifact.”
Odo didn’t answer at first. She looked up at him, searching his face—and was surprised to find only tenderness.
“I won’t pretend to…fully understand the nuances involved,” Odo said softly. “But as far as I’m concerned…if it bothers you, Nerys, that’s enough for me.”
A smile tugged at Kira’s face. But before she could reply, his combadge chirped.
“Neyen to Odo.”
His hand slipped from hers; all traces of warmth bled away to formality. “Odo here.”
“We’ve just received word. Kai Winn’s shuttle is expected at upper pylon one in an hour.”
“Acknowledged,” Odo said.
His eyes returned to hers, and Kira swore she could see just a hint of softness in that blue gaze. “Duty calls.”
He would need to perform a security sweep of the pylon before any shuttle carrying the Kai could dock.
Kira nodded. “Of course, Constable.”
*
“And then—” Benjamin’s hand smacked the console. “—she contacted Starfleet and lodged a formal protest!”
“Is that why Admiral Ross wanted to talk to you?” Dax asked, at her lab console.
Benjamin shot her a dark look.
“Well, how’d it go?”
“He told me to stop meddling in Bajoran affairs,” Benjamin muttered, “and return the damn tablet.”
Dax sighed. “You know how Starfleet feels about this Emissary thing.” She crossed from her console to the tablet. “It makes them very uncomfortable that you’ve allowed the Bajorans to view you as a religious icon.”
And she couldn’t say she blamed them.
“It used to make you uncomfortable, too,” she reminded him.
“Not anymore,” Benjamin said.
Dax settled onto a seat to compare the translations her PADD with a nearby panel.
“I guess the Prophets have spoken to me one too many times,” Benjamin continued.
Dax looked up at him. “I remember when you used to call them ‘wormhole aliens’.”
Benjamin spread his hands in a shrug. “Wormhole aliens or Prophets, it really doesn’t matter.”
As he spoke, Dax kept working on the inscriptions, listening with half an ear.
“The fact is,” he continued, “they exist out of time and over the centuries, they’ve given the Bajorans glimpses of the future. Glimpses that the Bajorans have written down to help them guide succeeding generations.”
Dax glanced up. Benjamin’s attention was on the tablet, gazing at it as if he were hoping it held all the answers.
“If whatever is written here can help me avoid mistakes,” he said, “can help me make the right decisions, then I’d be a fool to ignore it.”
“Fair enough,” Dax said, “but if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue to think of them as wormhole aliens.”
“All I know is,” Benjamin said, “that they have a relationship with Bajor that stretches back over a thousand years. They care what happens to Bajorans. They proved that when they kept the Dominion fleet from coming through the wormhole.”
Dax frowned at him. “Didn’t you have to talk them into it?”
Benjamin shook his head. “No…no. They specifically said, ‘Bajor cannot be destroyed.’ It’s more as if…they didn’t understand what would happen to Bajor. The causal relationships. They don’t experience linear time, Dax. They needed me to remind them that if Bajor were destroyed, it would be lost.”
“That doesn’t sound like the kind of god I’d like to put my faith in,” Dax said.
“Maybe,” Benjamin said. “But maybe…that’s why they made me their Emissary. Because they needed someone to…to be a bridge between them and Bajor.”
Dax hummed in response. “A heavy task for one Starfleet officer.”
“What matters is, they listened,” Benjamin said. “And they saved Bajor and the rest of the Alpha Quadrant. Now, they’re asking me for something in return. I don’t know what it is yet, and I’m not going to return the tablet until I do.”
As he spoke, Dax’s monitor beeped with a result.
“It’s the key,” he murmured. “I can feel it!”
Her brows tightened as she read the translation. “I hope you’re wrong about that, Benjamin.”
“What have you got?”
“The computer has translated part of the inscription,” Dax said as he walked up behind her. “It probably lacks the eloquence of the original passage, but…you’ll get the gist of it.” She tapped a few keys. “Here it is in modern Bajoran.”
On the screen, the symbols shifted into the more recognizable shapes of the present-day Bajoran language.
Benjamin read over her shoulder. “ ‘The time of Reckoning is at hand. The Prophets will weep. Their sorrow will consume…’ ”
Dax looked up at him, knowing exactly what would come next.
“ ‘…the Gateway to the Temple,’ ” Benjamin finished.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Dax said, swallowing, “but isn’t the Gateway to the Temple Deep Space Nine?”