Chapter Text
Odo worked furiously at the console in his quarters. On one screen, he watched the promenade and various corridors via surveillance footage; on the other, he had several dozen reports displayed as he composed his agenda for the next few weeks.
He was technically off duty. But his matrix was coiled tight as a spring, his substance churning, every cell trembling. His work was the only refuge he knew.
—she lay motionless on the biobed—
He growled under his breath.
—her eyes burned blue, wind in her hair—
He stabbed at his screen. Duty, duty, focus on duty—
—he gathered her in his arms, cupped her head to his chest—
—glass shattered as she walked—
“The Sisko must not falter!”
A frustrated sound—almost a cry—ripped from his throat, and he rocketed from his chair to pace his quarters, end to end. Only when he met the bulkhead for the fifth time did he give in to the urge to transform into a Tarkalean hawk and launch up into the air.
His feathered head struck the ceiling.
He squawked with annoyance, diving away and narrowly missing one of the metal props near his wall. Being smaller made his quarters comparatively larger to pace in, but he still couldn’t—
“Odo?”
He blinked.
With a twitch of his wings, he spiraled down to alight upon a tree branch and cocked his head toward the door.
The beep of the chime was accompanied by Kira’s voice, muffled through the bulkhead. “Odo? Are you alright?”
He morphed back into his customary humanoid form and strode toward the door.
“Odo!” A smile split her face the moment she saw him. But then, apparently noticing something amiss, her brows pinched. “What’s wrong?”
Odo stiffened. “What makes you think—”
“Please,” Kira said softly, “don’t try to pretend with me.”
A shaky breath hitched through his facsimile lungs, giving him away.
Kira stepped through the door, grasping his hand. “Why don’t you join me on the couch?”
But he shook his head, tearing himself from her and pacing away.
He didn’t want to sit down.
Didn’t want to be still.
Didn’t want to let his memories reach up and choke him.
“Odo?” Kira asked.
Odo sighed, stopping with his back to her, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m sorry, Nerys. I’m not going to be very pleasant company right now.”
“But I didn’t come for you to keep me company,” Kira said. “I came for you.”
Odo shut his eyes.
He knew, by now, that she would listen. That he could let her pull him into her arms and hold him—just as he had before the Romulans had entered the war and turned the tide, when his shame had threatened to suffocate him.
Part of him was even tempted to let her.
But this pain wouldn’t fade. No comfort could ease this ache. No safety existed from this wound. He could only learn to live with it.
“Captain, don’t!”
Against his will, he visibly flinched.
Kira crept up behind him. Tentatively, she placed a hand on the curve of his back. He shuddered at her touch.
“Odo?” Kira asked. “What’s wrong?”
—her shoulders heaved as blood dripped from her nose—
His matrix trembled.
—her body crumpled to the floor—
“Odo?”
—he gathered her in his arms, cupped her head to his chest—
Something squeezed his shoulder. He barely registered it.
—again and again, his shovel struck the ground—
“Odo!”
He jolted back to reality. Spun to face her.
Took in the warm hue of her skin, her brown eyes.
His fingers traced over her cheek. “Nerys…”
“Come with me,” Kira murmured.
She offered her hand.
He stared at it.
Prophets, he’d follow her anywhere, if she’d let him.
He grasped her fingers, and she led him across his quarters to the couch, then eased them both to the cushion. She pulled him against her so his head was resting against her shoulder, both her arms wrapped around him as one hand stroked over his hair.
“Talk to me, Odo,” she murmured.
“I—” His substance quaked. “I can’t.”
“Is this about the Reckoning?”
He nodded rapidly.
“About…the battle?” she asked. “On the promenade?”
His head whipped up to catch her eyes. “How did you know?”
Kira smoothed her hand over his hair, encouraging him to set his head back down. “It couldn’t have been easy to see me in danger.”
Odo shuddered.
He hadn’t just seen her in danger.
He’d put her in danger.
Kept her in danger.
Standing up for her wishes and her faith was one thing. Actively urging the captain not to interfere—not once, but several times—was another.
He’d fought for her death.
And the worst of it was, he’d gotten it right this time. He’d rectified his counterpart’s mistakes. He couldn’t promise himself this wouldn’t happen again.
He didn’t realize how badly he was trembling until Kira’s arms wrapped even tighter around him and she began to whisper words of reassurance in his ear. Not that he could make out what she was saying—his own substance was quivering so much he couldn’t separate the vibrations, couldn’t interpret her sounds.
He only knew they felt gentle. That her touch was soft, reassuring. That she was sitting here with him, holding him. That she wasn’t going away.
He managed a ragged gasp of her name.
She shushed him.
Eventually—minutes or hours later, he couldn’t tell—his shudders died down enough that reality could reassert itself.
He stiffened.
Prophets—what was wrong with him?
He’d spent their entire relationship so far seeking her comfort, breaking down in her arms.
That was hardly romantic.
How long would she put up with this? How long would her patience last before she realized this was all a mistake, that he had no idea what he was doing, that he couldn’t be the kind of partner she deserved?
Tentatively, shakily, Odo shifted upright on the couch. Kira let him go, but there was still concern in her eyes.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll manage.”
Kira peered at him. But masking his pain was a skill Odo prided himself on. He’d gotten a bit rusty at it with her, but he was sure his features were passable.
“…Alright,” Kira said. Her eyes twinkled. “Then…what do you think about catching the springball tournament?”
Odo blinked. “Is there one on?”
She rose from his couch and crossed to his wall monitor. “May I?”
“Please.” Then he tilted his head, considering. “We might want to move the couch.”
He basked in the delighted smile that spread across her face.
*
Their evening of springball transitioned into a night of motion features. Kira was pleasantly surprised when Odo chose a steamy romance—and then seemed positively hooked, his eyes glued to the monitor.
She tucked herself into his side and laid her head against his shoulder, sighing with contentment.
She wasn’t entirely sure what had crossed Odo’s mind earlier—why he’d seemed to reject her comfort and retreat. Didn’t he know how much she loved being able to support him, especially after all the years she knew he’d suffered without her ever realizing it? Didn’t he realize what a privilege it was to hold him in her arms? It was a gesture of trust—one that she treasured.
But if he wanted a quiet night watching a steamy love story, that was just fine by her, too.
Especially when, halfway through the story, the couple on the monitor came together in a passionate kiss—and Odo’s gaze broke from the screen to fix on hers.
Kira’s breath caught.
His deep-set blue eyes sparkled with bottomless devotion. But there was also hunger in that gaze. Barely restrained passion, of an intensity Kira had never seen before.
She caressed his cheek, and he closed the distance between them and captured her mouth with his.
Kira gasped.
His mouth was insistent yet reverent, passionate yet gentle. His hands were everywhere, roaming across her shoulders and back and neck, his fingers running through her hair. Kira reached for him in turn, running her hands across the expanse of his back, up and down his chest, up to his face.
Eventually, he broke the kiss, tipping his forehead against hers.
“I love you, Nerys,” he whispered.
She pulled his mouth back to hers. The feature played on in the background, forgotten.
Stardate: 51820.9
Quark’s was abuzz with chatter—but not the raucous conversation of happy customers. Quark himself was bustling about nervously.
“This isn’t mine,” muttered a red-uniformed Bajoran man at the end of the bar. “It’s someone else’s!”
Odo jumped slightly as the man slammed down the glass and stormed past.
It filled Odo with glee.
As customers talked over one another, complaints filling the air, Odo planted both hands on the bar, a devious glint in his eye. “Having a bad day?”
“Like you care,” Quark muttered. He whipped out a Ferengi PADD and spoke to one of his waiters. “Fizz, Froth, Flip, Finial, Foam, and Flare. What’s going on at that table, anyway?”
Odo followed his look. “I…take it there’s a problem with your drink replicator?”
“A problem?” Quark planted several glasses on the bar. “No…can’t be. If there were a problem, I would have submitted an emergency maintenance request this morning. And if I had done that—” He poured a pair of drinks. “—Chief O’Brien would’ve assured me that Rom would fix it right away.”
Odo smirked at the distinct note of annoyance in his voice.
“Then, of course,” Quark said, “Rom would’ve promised me that Nog would fix it before the end of the day.”
He traded the two bottles he’d just poured for another, throwing Odo a look.
Odo straightened, listening with perhaps a tad too much amusement.
“And since this is the end of day,” Quark said, “and there is no Nog in sight”—he poured another drink—“we can only draw one conclusion: that I don’t have a problem.”
Suddenly, Dax slid in next to Odo. “Is your drink replicator broken?”
Odo tried his best to school his smile, sensing an opportunity to bait Quark headed his way.
“You’re quick today,” Quark muttered.
Dax’s brows arched. “Do you want me to fix it or not?”
That drew Quark up short. “You?”
“That’s right,” Dax said. “Nog had a chance to take a trip to Ferenginar, and I told him that I would cover for him while he was away.”
The bafflement on Quark’s face was priceless. “Why?”
“Because he did a favor for me last week,” Dax said, shrugging. “So I owe him.”
She slipped around the end of the bar and headed straight for the replicator.
“But—that’s work for a mechanic,” Quark said. “A repairman. A lowly engineer.”
“I’ll tell Chief O’Brien you said that.”
Dax planted her hands onto the mess dripping from the replicator panel and yanked it open.
Quark groaned in disgust. But the bleep of a PADD interrupted whatever protest he’d been about to try next. He headed back to the bar, reading out the order. “A supernova and a Silven surprise…”
He started to grab the necessary ingredients from behind the bar, then stopped, looking back at Dax.
“She can’t do this,” he said.
“Why not?” Odo asked.
“I…” Quark’s hands lifted helplessly. “It-it-it’s not right! She’s above that sort of thing.”
Dax, meanwhile, was peeling blobs of gunk off the replicator’s circuits, completely unfazed.
“Those hands weren’t meant for poking around inside some filthy drink replicator,” Quark said. “They were meant for higher pursuits.”
Bingo.
Odo lowered one elbow to the bar. “You’re in love!”
Quark glanced his way. Shook his head. Yanked a pair of bottles from his stock as cover. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said this year.”
“Really?” Odo said.
Quark whipped up to face him. “Really!”
Hmph. Odo set his chin on his fist. “It must kill you that she’s married to Worf.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Odo smirked. “Hmm.”
“Don’t pretend you’re so high and mighty,” Quark snapped. “How long do you think the Major’s gonna put up with that dour attitude of yours?”
Odo flinched. Just as quickly, he schooled his features.
Quark, though, caught his look.
“You’ll see.” Quark poured a drink. “Before long, you’ll be back to being just as miserable as me.”
Odo straightened, folding his arms. Damn it—Quark had known him too long. He knew he’d scored his hit, and was already bustling down the bar, filling drink after drink as his customers railed at him.
Then Odo’s gaze chanced upon the supposed “Silven surprise” Quark had just poured, and he saw his opportunity to save face.
“By the way,” he said, “that’s not a Silven surprise. That’s a silken sunrise.”
Quark glared up at him.
Before his nemesis could score another hit, Odo retreated from the bar with as much dignity as he could muster. But as he stepped out onto the promenade, his steps slowed.
The rush of satisfaction he always got from seeing Quark so bent out of shape was quickly fading, anxiety taking its place.
How long do you think the Major’s gonna put up with that dour attitude of yours?
Odo grunted in annoyance, shaking his head slightly.
He and Quark traded insults as a matter of course. This one was no different—just an attempt to get a rise out of him.
Then why couldn’t he shake those words from his mind?
Stardate: 51843.3
Odo tapped at his desk console, frowning.
His latest system integrity audit had turned up an odd result. An anomalous request for system data. Nothing that warranted a full security alert, but there was something familiar about…
He squinted.
That was a civilian access code, which meant that all identifying details were anonymized. But he’d seen it before—months back, before his miraculous first kiss with Kira, before his entire world had brightened.
He’d been suspicious then, too. He’d started a trace, only to be interrupted when Kira turned up at his quarters.
His eyes fluttered shut.
She’d asked about the Founder. About what had tipped him off, on that moon in the Badlands.
“…I don’t want you to think that you can’t talk to me…”
He’d told her of his love confession.
She’d winced.
The stab of pain he’d felt seemed distant, now—now that her whole face lit up whenever she saw him, and he knew what her lips felt like against his. Now that he could no longer count how many times she’d told him, I love you.
Their talk of Gaia, though, was anything but distant.
“You disregarded my wishes! Disregarded my faith!”
“You have no idea what it’s like for me to be sorry for saving your life…”
Odo’s cells clenched.
“The Sisko must not falter!”
“Captain, don’t!”
—her body crumpled to the floor—
…Nerys, Nerys, Nerys…
He shook his head hard, dispelling the images that still churned within his substance.
It was no wonder that, after she’d left his quarters that night, Odo never had gotten back to the security trace he’d been working on. He’d been so wrung out, he’d very nearly asked Kira to leave. Kira, the one person he always wanted in his space.
Now, though, another anomalous system request blinked on his screen.
The user data, though anonymized, was identical.
A quick check of the system data accessed turned up nothing particularly unusual—just public records. Still, Odo’s instincts were prickling, and they had rarely led him astray.
He began another trace, this time setting it to run continuously and alert him to any further system access, no matter how innocuous.
*
Stardate: 51867.5
Days later, Odo found himself in the replimat, joining Kira for lunch—and, incidentally, Dax and Dr. Bashir.
Dax was talking a mile a minute, regaling them all with a tale of station gossip that Odo had lost track of about ten minutes ago. Instead, he was focused on Kira’s smile, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she laughed.
He was allowed to notice, now.
Allowed to let his adoration show on his face.
Allowed to reach for her hand, and enjoy the soft smile Kira flashed his way. The one that was only for him.
Allowed to—
Dax stopped, mid-sentence. She and Bashir were both staring at him.
Odo cleared his throat. “Did I do something wrong?”
Kira squeezed his hand. “Of course not!”
“It’s just,” Bashir said, “I never would’ve pictured you as the romantic type, Odo.”
Odo frowned. “Romantic type?”
“You know,” Bashir said, smiling. “The type who gazes into his partner’s eyes?”
Odo shifted in his seat.
Dax leaned toward Bashir, feigning surreptitiousness. “I wonder what he’s like when we’re not around.”
Bashir smirked. “Maybe he picks her up with flowers and a tux, takes her dancing in the moonlight?”
Odo blinked rapidly.
Was that what was expected of him?
“You do realize we can hear you, right?” Kira said mildly.
Dax’s eyes sparkled, unrepentant. “C’mon, Nerys, give us something.”
Odo froze.
Squeezing his hand, Kira shot Dax a look.
Dax put up her hands. “Alright, alright! Can you blame me for wondering?”
“No,” Kira said. “But I can blame you for asking.”
Her smile took the edge off her words. But it couldn’t soothe the frisson of anxiety that spread through Odo’s substance.
He had virtually no experience with being a romantic partner. Zero experience with dating. And romantic intimacy didn’t exactly lend itself to being observed and studied; most of it happened behind closed doors.
Was Quark right, for once?
Was it only a matter of time before Kira realized the extent of his inadequacy?
*
Stardate: 51882.2
As the promenade began to fill with its morning civilian traffic, Odo settled into a seat on the second level, PADD in hand.
He had the whole day off.
Well…technically.
The nature of his work meant he was never truly off duty. One might best describe his status during off hours such as these as “on call”—which was why he’d chosen a spot overlooking the promenade. If any unsavory characters thought they could take their chance to strike, they would find themselves sorely mistaken.
Most of Odo’s attention, however, was focused on the PADD he held.
And, now, on the distinctive footsteps—a short, rapid stride—that approached from within the bar.
Odo’s gaze flicked up. “Quark.”
Quark put up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t do anything!”
“Yet,” Odo said.
“Are you always this grumpy on your day off?”
Odo scowled. “What makes you think—”
“Because it’s 0650,” Quark said, “and you didn’t do your morning patrol.”
“Hmph.” Odo shook his head; it came as no surprise that Quark had his routine memorized, despite his having rearranged it to keep the station’s criminal element on their toes just last week.
“Just don’t let the Major catch you scowling like that,” Quark said.
Odo squinted up at him. “Don’t you have a bar to open?”
“Not for another five minutes,” Quark said, flashing him a snaggle-toothed grin.
Odo growled under his breath, returning his attention to his PADD. Any other day—a day he was on duty—he’d be more than willing to trade insults with Quark. Today, however, he had research to do.
“What’ve you got there?”
Before Odo could blink, Quark had snatched the PADD out of his hands.
Odo rose. “Quark—”
“Romance Rituals of the Bajoran Heart?” Quark read. Mischievous delight spread across his features. “Odo, are you—”
Footsteps approached. “Quark, return the PADD.”
Odo’s barely-existent brows shot up. He’d never expected rescue to come in the form of Commander T’Sorra.
Quark hesitated, tapping the PADD against one hand.
“Now,” Odo growled, holding out his hand.
Sighing, Quark handed it over.
“Return to your bar,” T’Sorra ordered. “Your inventory is due for inspection.”
Quark’s eyes widened. “But I—”
“There will be no delays,” T’Sorra stated.
Quark turned to Odo, who only folded his arms, smirking. “I’m not bailing you out. Commander T’Sorra is on duty today. You’ll answer to her.”
Grumbling, Quark retreated.
To T’Sorra, Odo dipped his head in a slight nod. “Commander.”
“Sir.” T’Sorra drew her hands behind her back. “I fail to understand why you waste time…bantering with that Ferengi.”
Odo stiffened. “I don’t banter.”
T’Sorra cocked a brow.
“And Quark can be quite…useful, sometimes,” Odo added. “As long as you keep him on a tight leash.”
“That does not align with Starfleet procedure.”
“Well,” Odo said, “I’m not in Starfleet, am I?”
T’Sorra’s gaze flashed to his. “Sir, I wish to discuss—”
“Ah!” Odo held up a finger. “I’m off duty.”
“I wish to discuss,” T’Sorra repeated, “the security arrangements for next week’s operation.”
Odo frowned.
She meant the Ninth Fleet’s upcoming battle drill, of course. And she knew full well the promenade was the wrong place to discuss that—she wouldn’t have graduated from Starfleet Academy without such a basic understanding of protocol. She also had to know that if she wished to discuss this in an appropriate setting, she could have easily caught Odo yesterday, when he was on duty. Or, for that matter, she could wait until tomorrow.
T’Sorra matched his stare, her gaze inscrutable.
She was testing him.
Again.
“Commander,” Odo said, “the arrangements have been recorded for your access. Now, if you want to discuss them tomorrow—”
“Today,” T’Sorra said. “Now.”
“But not here,” Odo said, testing back.
“Sir,” T’Sorra said, “when the USS Griffin docks, we will be—”
Now Odo stared at her, hard.
There was no USS Griffin in the Ninth Fleet, and she knew that.
She held his gaze.
“Commander T’Sorra,” Odo said, “I am off duty. Leave me, and attend to yours.”
T’Sorra squinted at him.
Then, with a sharp nod, she stalked toward Quark’s upper level.
Odo watched her go, wondering if he should report her behavior to Captain Sisko. At the very least, it needed to be noted in his secure log—the one that not even his deputies knew about.
For now, however…he had research to do.
He settled back down at his table and lifted his PADD, absorbing himself in the details of Bajoran courtship.
*
“Captain,” T’Sorra said, handing a PADD across Sisko’s desk. “My report on Operation 13.”
That was what T’Sorra had informally—and arbitrarily—called it in her logs, so that Odo wouldn’t find out too easily. Her investigation into whether Odo had been replaced by Founder.
Sisko sighed, glancing over the PADD. “What have you got?”
“I am…largely satisfied that he has not, as of our most recent encounter, already been replaced.”
“Largely?”
“He has refused to detail the Link’s functionality for me,” T’Sorra said. “While he displays correct knowledge of protocol and behavior consistent with my expectations, it is still possible a Founder could gain that information from a Link with him and effectively mimic his expertise.”
Sisko frowned. “Hm.”
“Additionally,” T’Sorra said, “while it is not evidence, I remain suspicious of his refusal to detail what he knows about the Link.”
“But you’re right,” Sisko said, rubbing his brow. “That’s not evidence.”
“And,” T’Sorra added, “even if his correct display of knowledge and protocol is a result of Linking with his replacement, I detect no signs whatsoever that the Changeling in his place has enacted a nefarious agenda.”
“Meaning,” Sisko said, “however valid your concerns may be, there’s no sign that you’re right.”
“Correct,” T’Sorra said. “However, I still believe it prudent to monitor his activities continuously. He remains a very strategic target for future replacement.”
Sisko glanced up at her. “What’s your risk assessment?”
“Given all available information, and assuming innocence per procedure, despite the lack of available information about the Link?” T’Sorra cocked a brow. “There are no positive indicators that he has been replaced. I have only concerns. At this time, I judge the risk acceptable.”
“Very well.” Sisko set down the PADD. “Carry on, and keep me informed.”