Chapter Text
“Report!” Sisko ordered.
Dax swiveled to face him. “We expect to be down to a skeleton crew within the hour.”
“Very well,” Sisko said as he descended the steps from his office.
“What did Starfleet have to say?” Dax asked.
“I managed to convince them that we couldn’t afford to defy the Prophets.”
It had the virtue of being the truth. Since the Prophets had wiped out the Jem’Hadar fleet, no other Dominion ships had come through the wormhole—at least, that they knew of.
“They are preventing further Dominion invasion,” Worf agreed.
“The only problem is,” Dax said, “there’s no guarantee the Prophets will win this battle.”
The comm beeped. “T’Sorra to Captain Sisko.”
Sisko frowned. “Go ahead.”
“I am having difficulty convincing a group of Bajorans to leave the promenade.”
“Where’s Odo?” Sisko asked.
“With the Prophet.”
Sisko grimaced. “I’d better go. Worf, you have Ops.”
*
Sisko found said group gathered near the possessed Kira, kneeling before Kai Winn as she led them in prayer. Next to the group stood T’Sorra, hands clasped behind her back.
And, standing just a few paces beyond Kira, was the constable himself, his eyes locked on her as if she were the only thing that existed in the universe.
“…Tera dak embah ihsehelm ran embrah,” Winn chanted, her arms held up and to her sides.
“…de-ram ta-meen,” her followers chanted with her.
“Tera dak ihsehelm ran embrah…”
“…de-ram ta-meen.”
Sisko approached T’Sorra. “Report.”
“The last transports are standing by,” T’Sorra said.
“What about Odo?”
T’Sorra’s gaze cut to his. “He ordered me to coordinate the evacuation and report to you. He hasn’t moved since.”
Sisko sighed.
It wasn’t like Odo to be negligent in his duty. But first, Sisko needed to deal with the Kai and her followers.
“Tera dak ihsehelm ran embrah,” Winn was chanting.
“Eminence,” Sisko said, over the answering chant.
“…ta-meen,” her followers finished.
Winn’s eyes shifted to his. “Emissary.”
“These people have to go,” Sisko said.
A false smile faltered on her face. “We are offering prayers for the Prophets’ victory.”
“The Prophets will hear your prayers wherever you are,” Sisko said. “It isn’t safe here.”
“Then why are you still here, Emissary?”
“I’m still captain of this station, and I’m going to do everything in my power to save it,” Sisko said. “Now, are you going to tell these people to go, or shall I?”
Winn hesitated.
“My children,” she finally said, “the Prophets have heard your prayers. You must go.”
At her words, the Bajorans rose to their feet.
“Take them to the transports,” Sisko ordered T’Sorra.
“And Odo?”
“I’ll talk to him,” Sisko said.
With a sharp nod, T’Sorra turned to usher away the Bajorans.
To Winn, Sisko said, “Excuse me.”
Dipping his head in a nod, he headed past her—and past the Prophet, to Odo.
The constable’s only acknowledgment of his presence was a brief flicker of his eyes in Sisko’s direction.
“Odo,” Sisko said.
“If you’re going to remind me of my duty,” Odo said without looking at him, “don’t bother. Commander T’Sorra is already handling the last of the evacuation.”
“On your orders,” Sisko said. “I never relieved you of duty.”
“My place is here, Captain,” Odo said. “At her side.”
“You are my chief of security.”
Odo didn’t answer.
“Odo,” Sisko said, “you can’t stay here.”
Odo looked at him, then, and his gaze was hard, unyielding. “You can charge me with insubordination if you like, but I’m not leaving.”
“Odo—”
The lights flickered, interrupting him, and the Prophet spoke. “Kosst Amojan has chosen its vessel.”
She turned and looked up at the second level.
Sisko followed her gaze—and his heart nearly stopped.
Jake was gripping the balustrade, lightning crackling under his hands, his eyes burning red.
*
Distantly, Odo was aware of the Pah-wraith—of Kosst Amojan—descending to the first level, one click of Jake’s boots on the steps at a time.
Jake.
Was this choice deliberate? Designed to test the captain’s faith? To tempt Sisko to put an end to this?
Jake stopped just outside Quark’s bar counter, meters from Kira down the promenade. His feet were planted shoulder-width apart, his arms coiled at his sides.
“Leave my son!” Sisko cried. “Take me instead!”
Kosst Amojan smirked, its blood-red eyes never leaving the Prophet. “Your Emissary offers himself to us. His faith wavers.”
“The Sisko,” the Prophet intoned, “must not falter!”
Jake’s head whipped to face Sisko. “You wish to end this?”
Odo could see the conflict on the captain’s face.
“Go ahead,” said Kosst Amojan. “Implement your plan. Expel us!”
“The Sisko must not falter!” the Prophet cried.
Sisko’s face was twisted with anguish. He looked from Kosst Amojan, to the Prophet, back to Kosst Amojan. His face crumpled. His mouth opened—
“Captain, don’t!” Odo heard himself say.
Shock crystallized across the captain’s face. But his jaw tightened all the same.
Hate flickered in Kosst Amojan’s eyes. Then Jake’s hand lifted—and Odo’s feet were torn from the floor as he was thrown clear down the promenade.
He dragged himself to his knees, gasping.
He searched for Kira—then froze.
Beneath the flickering lights and the howling wind, tendrils of blue energy began to wind their way across her body, swirling around her shoulders and waist and gathering at her stomach. Kosst Amojan mirrored her with tendrils of red, and columns of energy burst forth to slam together in the middle ground between them.
Odo scrambled to his feet, only to be knocked into the bulkhead as sparks flew and the station shuddered.
He stood behind Kira; he couldn’t see her face, only the tension in her body, the way her arms were locked and stiff at her sides, the way her hair still quivered in the wind. But Jake was visibly straining, the blood vessels of his face beginning to swell.
Where their energy met, a fireball built between them, swirling and sparking. The station rumbled around them; smoke billowed from exposed conduits.
“Emissary!” Winn cried. “We must go!”
Sisko barely looked at her. His gaze was locked on Jake.
Kira was beginning to pant—Odo could see the rise and fall of her shoulders, her chest. But there was still strength in her stance—and Jake was trembling, grimacing.
Kira bore down and pushed, and the fireball inched toward Kosst Amojan.
“This vessel will die,” it hissed. “Is that what you want, Emissary?”
“No!” Sisko cried.
“The Sisko must not falter!” cried the Prophet.
And then its burning blue eyes flicked Odo’s way.
Odo’s breath hitched.
That was Kira.
Aware.
Willing.
Begging him.
“Captain, don’t,” Odo gritted out. “Whatever you’re—aargh!”
An energy blast smacked him square in the chest, sending him reeling back against a market display stand. He scrabbled for purchase on its edge.
“Go on,” Kosst Amojan growled. “Expel us. Save your son!”
“Captain!” Odo gasped.
“The Sisko must not falter!”
Somewhere in Odo’s periphery, a turbolift hummed. The wind howled as energy burst and sparks rained down.
Footsteps rushed. “Benjamin!”
Dax.
“Worf is standing by in Ops!” she said. “He can trigger the chroniton generator at your command! You can still end this, Ben!”
“No!” Sisko cried. “I’ve got to play this thing out!”
“That is your son out there!”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Sisko cried. “The Prophets will protect him!”
“They’re trying to kill him!”
“No!” Sisko said. “They’re trying to destroy the Pah-wraith! The Prophets will not let anything happen to him!”
“How do you know that?” Dax demanded.
“I know!”
Energy built and swirled and flashed. Sparks flew. Kira and Jake strained.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Dax said. “According to the sensors, the energy building between them could explode at any second!”
“I’m not going to leave Jake here!”
Sparks burst. The fireball shoved toward Kosst Amojan, and Jake gasped in pain. Sisko lurched toward him, only to abort the movement.
Kira’s shoulders heaved. Odo hauled himself to his feet and staggered toward her.
“Odo, stay back!” Dax cried.
It was all he could do to listen.
“We must go, Emissary!” Winn begged.
“Benjamin!”
“Get out of here!” Sisko shouted. “Get off the station! Both of you! That’s an order!”
Winn reached for Dax. “Come, child. We must go.”
Dax took an aborted step, only to grasp Odo’s arm. “Odo—”
He shook her off. “I’m staying!”
Winn dragged Dax away.
Energy swelled between Prophet and Pah-wraith, billowing, burning, swirling. Odo’s eyes caught on Kira’s face—her skin still cold, but her face confident, her chin lifted with steady poise.
Oh, Nerys.
If she had anything to do with it, her Prophets would be victorious.
Surely, he had never loved her more than he did now.
Jake was straining, blood vessels popping all over his face, his mouth twisted in a grimace of effort. His chest gave a jolt, shoving the fireball—only for Kira to shove it right back. Blood began to run from her nose.
Kira.
Odo lurched for the nearest bulkhead and latched his fingers around its ledge, lest he run for her.
Sparks flew. Smoke billowed from the fireball between them—which was moments from impacting Jake’s chest.
Jake winced, jolted, shuddered, convulsed in pain. “End this…Emissary!”
Kira’s voice seemed to eclipse the promenade, resonant and powerful. “The Sisko must not falter!”
“Emis…sary…!”
But Kosst Amojan’s call went unanswered—until, suddenly, a low whine built around them.
The fireball shrank slightly.
Kira’s eyes darted about in panic.
And then a smirk curled Jake’s lips. “The Kai falters!”
Kira’s teeth gritted. She bore down, her eyes burning, but the fireball only receded further.
The whine’s pitch rose steadily.
The fireball dissolved.
“The new vessel will rise!” cried Kosst Amojan. “The Temple will burn! All of time will fall! We will have dominion!”
“No!” Kira screamed.
Even the energy streaming from their vessels weakened and dispersed, and two wisps of energy—one blue, one red—swirled up to disappear through the ceiling.
Kira’s body crumpled to the floor.
Odo raced for her and pulled her into his arms, propped her against one knee, let her head rest in the crook of his elbow.
Her head listed to the side.
“Nerys,” he gasped. “Nerys, please!”
Nothing.
She was limp in his arms.
Odo’s matrix heaved and he crumpled over her, gathering her to his chest, holding her close.
—he gathered her in his arms, cupped her head to his chest, lowered his face so as to hide his grief, as his matrix itself threatened to shake apart—
—he looked into her pale face, pressed his fingers to her cold skin—
—his knees pressed into the dirt as the soil stained his hands—
—again and again, his shovel struck the ground—
No, this wasn’t happening.
Not again.
He couldn’t lose her.
Nerys, Nerys, Nerys…
“…Odo?”
His very being ground to a halt.
Shakily, he lifted his head.
Registered her face.
Her eyes were open, blinking up at him.
They were warm.
Brown.
Not burning blue.
“Nerys,” he gasped.
Her voice cracked. “Odo.”
She reached up with a trembling hand, and he caught it, arresting her movement.
“Odo,” she whispered.
Her eyes slipped shut, but there was still movement in her chest, a gentle rise and fall as she breathed.
Odo gathered her close again, holding her tight as he rocked her.
*
Even as Sisko approached the infirmary archway, he had no idea what he could say to his son.
How to explain choosing his faith in the Prophets.
Letting Jake remain in harm’s way.
He encountered Dr. Bashir in the doorway.
“Jake?” he asked.
“He’ll be laid up for a few days,” Bashir said. “But he’ll be alright.”
“May I see him?”
“Oh, yes.”
Sisko wasn’t sure what he would have done if the doctor had told him otherwise.
He slipped past Bashir to the biobed, where Jake lay surrounded by beeping monitors. A sheet covered him up to his chest, and he was lying still, his eyes closed, his head listed to the side.
Sisko’s fingertips brushed his son’s temple. “Jake…”
His head rolled upright, and a weak smile tugged the corner of his mouth even as Sisko lightly touched his cheek.
“Dad,” he murmured.
“How are you feeling?”
A weak chuckle. “Could be worse.”
“You’ll be up and about in no time,” Sisko said, forcing a smile.
But then he faltered.
“I don’t know what to say.”
Jake’s smile was genuine. “Say you’re happy to see me.”
“You know I am.” But that wasn’t enough. “I wish I—” His voice cracked. “I want to explain what happened…but I’m not sure that I can.”
His heart clenched, and he buried his face in his hands, fighting back tears.
“You don’t have to explain,” Jake said softly. “When the Pah-wraith was inside me…I could feel its hatred.”
Sisko breathed through his hands.
“And I knew,” Jake continued, “that no matter what, it couldn’t be allowed to win. Even if it meant I had to die.”
Sisko heaved a deep breath.
Jake reached for him, clasped his hand. “You did the right thing.”
Sisko’s eyes squeezed shut.
How was this his reality?
He could remember holding Jake in his arms as a baby. Watching his son grow up. Kissing his bruises when he fell. Soothing him when he couldn’t sleep.
When had their positions reversed? When had his son become the one to comfort him?
“But…Dad,” Jake said.
Sisko’s eyes blinked open.
“Did you notice the way the Pah-wraith tried to tempt you?” Jake asked. “The way it demanded that you put a stop to this?”
Sisko nodded.
“It was in my head,” Jake whispered. “And I could feel…it was as if…it has some greater purpose. It’s not just evil. It has a plan.”
“A plan?” Sisko repeated. “Jake, how do you—?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said, and there was fear in his eyes. “But I know that this isn’t over. It’s coming back, Dad.”
Sisko stared at him.
He had stood and watched as Kosst Amojan overtook his son, as gods and demons dueled before his eyes. He’d chosen to believe in the Prophets. Latched onto the hope that they would keep his son safe.
But if Jake was right…if there was more to this than met the eye…
If this wasn’t over…
“Jake,” Sisko whispered, at a loss for words.
Jake reached for him, and Sisko let himself be pulled into his son’s arms.
*
The vedek’s chanting tones filled the shrine. But Kira was barely listening.
“The Sisko must not falter…”
“The Kai falters!”
“Expel us. Save your son…”
“The Temple will burn!”
“Nerys, Nerys, Nerys…”
She’d never forget the way Odo had fought for her out on the promenade. The way he’d begged the captain not to interfere, even as she was sure his heart was breaking.
What must it have cost him not to intervene himself?
Not to save her life?
No—she knew exactly what it had cost him.
He’d told her of Gaia. Told her how his counterpart had suffered—how he had suffered.
And he’d respected her faith all the same.
What she didn’t understand, was why any of this had happened.
Why the Prophets had chosen her as their vessel.
The gravity of that honor spun her mind.
As the prayer service ended, Kira wandered out of the shrine and onto the promenade, her mind still a million miles away.
“Nerys?”
She turned, smiled. “Odo.”
He fell into step beside her. “How was the prayer service?”
“To tell you the truth,” she said, “I didn’t pay that much attention. I’m still trying to make sense out of everything that happened. I mean…of all the people on this station, the Prophets chose me. I’m not sure I know why I deserve that honor.”
“Perhaps that’s why you were chosen,” Odo said. “You have faith and humility.”
Her stomach tightened at the notion.
She had been chosen. By one of her gods.
No—the idea that she might have earned such a blessing, that something about her made her intrinsically worthy, was not something she wanted to think about. Odo might have no qualms putting her on a pedestal, but Kira was much more comfortable with bowing to her gods.
Instead, she changed the subject, quickly grasping Odo’s arm and turning him to face her. “Odo…are you alright?”
She caught the brief flicker of pain in his eyes.
“I heard you, on the promenade,” she murmured. “The way you begged the captain not to interfere.”
“Nerys…”
She squeezed his hand.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Nerys, I…there’s something you need to know.”
He winced at his own words.
“What’s that?” Kira asked.
“I…” His breath hitched. “I understand, now. What my counterpart felt.”
“I thought you already did,” Kira said. “That you felt it yourself, through the Link.”
“Yes, though the Link,” Odo stressed. “It may have felt as immediate as if it were me, but it still wasn’t in this life. I didn’t choose to disrespect your faith. I could tell myself that.”
“But…you didn’t,” Kira said. “And you still haven’t.”
“No, Nerys, you don’t understand.” Odo’s breath trembled. “I’ve felt it, now. In this life. When Dax and Dr. Bashir came up with a way to expel the Prophet, it felt as if I’d been tossed a lifeline. I had a chance to save you. And that’s exactly what my counterpart felt—when you told me, ‘maybe’.” He shuddered. “I wondered if that potential was still a part of me. And now I know it is.”
Kira frowned. She peered at him, absorbing his words.
“Odo,” she said slowly, “you felt all that…but you still chose to respect my faith.”
Odo hissed as if in physical pain. “I wanted to save you. But I knew I couldn’t give in to that.”
She squeezed his hand, hard. “And you didn’t.”
From the lost, desperate look in his eyes, he didn’t understand.
“Odo,” she said, “I think Gaia was good for us.”
Odo flinched.
“Not for you,” she said quickly. “And not for me. But for us. It made you conscious of that potential, so you could make a different choice this time.”
Odo’s eyes slipped shut.
“And,” she added, “it’s how I found out that you loved me. How could I possibly regret that?”
At her words, Odo’s eyes blew wide, latching onto hers.
“Odo,” Kira whispered.
“Nerys?”
“I love you,” she said, just to watch the pure awe that chased away the pain in his eyes.
“I love you,” he replied softly.
The pain was still there, she knew. But she’d have to check in with him later—after she attended to her duties.
“I have to take the Kai to her shuttle,” Kira said. “I’ll see you later, alright?”
“Of course, Nerys.”
Offering him a secret smile, she pressed a kiss to Odo’s cheek and headed off down the promenade.
*
Escorting Kai Winn had always been…troubling, for Kira.
Winn was ambitious, power-hungry, and insincere. She was responsible for Bareil’s death. She’d tried to assassinate him even before that. She’d risked civil war on Bajor over a bunch of farming equipment. And through it all, she did it with a smile.
But she was still the Kai.
And if her Choosing was the will of the Prophets…
“The Emissary couldn’t escort me himself?” Winn asked as they stepped clear of the pylon turbolift.
“He’s with his son,” Kira said.
“I would think he’d want to thank me,” Winn said.
“For what?”
“I prevented the destruction of this station,” Winn said, as if it were obvious. “I saved the Emissary’s life—and the life of his son.”
“Don’t pretend you did it for the captain,” Kira muttered.
“I did it for Bajor,” Winn said. “If you haven’t heard, the floodwaters have receded, and the earthquakes have stopped.”
She stepped up to the airlock.
“And you’re going to take credit for that?” Kira said.
Winn turned, slowly, deliberately. “I take it as a sign I did the right thing.”
“You defied the will of the Prophets,” Kira murmured. As she realized the truth of her own words, she gathered strength. “And you did it because you couldn’t stand the fact that a human, an infidel, had a stronger faith than you. The Emissary was willing to risk his own son’s life to serve the Prophets.”
Winn smiled, shaking her head. “My faith is as pure as the Emissary’s.”
Kira squinted at her. “I think you’re confusing faith with ambition.”
“I’m not confusing anything, child,” Winn said. A familiar edge entered her voice. “You are. The Prophets chose you as their instrument. That doesn’t mean you can speak for them.”
But, for once, Kira was unwilling to back down.
“Because of your interference,” she said, “the Reckoning was stopped. Do you know what Kosst Amojan said before it was expelled?”
Winn’s glare was barely veiled. “Well, tell me, child.”
“It said, ‘The false vessel will rise,’ ” Kira said, her gaze boring into the Kai’s. “ ‘The Temple will burn.’ And I’m not sure if even the Prophets know what that means for Bajor.”
For the first time, Kira thought she caught a glimpse of fear in Winn’s eyes.
The Kai turned and boarded her ship without a reply.