Chapter Text
Stardate: 51882.8
The night found Odo sidling up to the bar to lean one shoulder against the bulkhead, watching as Quark toyed with a large, bejeweled ring.
It had been an…interesting day for station security. Staying decidedly off duty as he watched T’Sorra wrangle Quark, Rom, their mother Ishka, Grand Nagus Zek, Brunt, and Commissioner Nilva had been an exercise in restraint. But when Quark literally turned himself female so he could stand in for his bedridden mother, Odo decided this was one time when he was content to let someone else handle the situation.
Quark was annoying in any circumstance. Hormonal Quark, reeling from the transition, would’ve been a nightmare.
Now that the excitement had died down and Quark was back to normal, though, Odo found himself absurdly curious. Would his nemesis be back to his usual self? Or did this mark a change in their dynamic?
“Interesting ring,” he observed.
“It was a gift.” Quark sighed. “Poor Nilva…such a lovely man but so lonely.”
“Really,” Odo muttered.
Quark nodded. “There was a sweetness to him…and also a strength. Sometimes he’d get this little glint in his eye…”
He looked up at Odo. Odo peered back at him.
“You know what I mean,” Quark said.
“…Not really,” Odo said. “But I’m glad you had a pleasant evening.”
Quark straightened. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
For once, he wasn’t—but his jabs had never cut deep before. “You’re being a little overly sensitive.”
“I’ve only been a male again for six hours.” Quark gasped for air. “My hormones must still be out of balance.” His voice broke. “My emotions are raging out of control!”
Odo shifted awkwardly, wrong-footed. “Is there…anything I can do?”
Quark’s breath hitched on a sob. “Would you mind…giving me…a hug?”
“A hug?”
“Just a small one?” Quark begged.
Prophets—was that genuine desperation in the Ferengi’s eyes?
All thoughts of holding this over Quark vanished without a trace. Odo glanced around quickly, but Morn was busy chatting another customer’s ears off, and the Ferengi waiters were busy filling drinks.
No sooner had he grunted his permission than Quark threw his arms around Odo’s middle and started bawling into his shoulder.
Morn was definitely watching now.
Odo patted Quark’s head a few times, then grasped Quark by the shoulders, pushing him away.
Footsteps preceded a high, squeaky voice behind him. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything!”
Odo never thought he’d be relieved to hear the Nagus.
“Ah…excuse me,” he muttered, and slipped clear of the bar.
His substance was still quivering with mortification when a much more welcome voice called his name.
“Odo?”
His gaze tracked to hers. “Nerys!”
She sidled up to him, squinting a little. “You alright?”
“Ah…yes.” He sucked in a deep breath, restoring order to his form. “Just a…run-in with Quark.”
One brow crept up.
“He hugged me,” Odo admitted.
A teasing smile bloomed across Kira’s face. But, from her, he could tolerate it. Even enjoy it.
Just…maybe not in plain view on the promenade.
He dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Let’s find someplace a bit quieter, shall we?”
Kira’s eyes twinkled. “Your quarters or mine?”
Stardate: 51921.5 | USS Defiant
“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” said the man on the wall monitor.
“That’s alright,” Odo nodded. “Thank you.”
The transmission ended.
Then the door swished open behind him. Kira entered, carrying the O’Briens’ baby on her hip, humming softly.
Odo approached, entranced. He settled against a console to watch her.
She held Kirayoshi like he was her own, naturally swaying him side to side, soothing him with her voice and adjusting him on her hip as he wriggled and babbled.
“Oh, yes, oh, yes, I know,” she said, smiling at the infant she held in her arms.
“You’re very good with him,” Odo murmured.
“Hmm.” She grinned. “He knows me. I had him inside of me for five months.”
Kirayoshi babbled, and she hoisted him up high, babbling right back. He wriggled again, and she patted his bottom, laughing.
“I think…” She started bouncing him. “I think I might wanna have one of my own someday.”
Odo froze.
That wasn’t something he could give her.
He shifted to his feet and averted his eyes, lest she read him too closely. “According to the archaeologists I talked to, the portal was built by a civilization that vanished two thousand years ago.”
Kira straightened, listening even as she held Kirayoshi.
“Which means,” Odo said, “if Molly survived the fall…she would have found herself all alone.”
“You’re saying that planet was uninhabited three hundred years ago?” Kira asked.
Odo nodded. “The first Bajoran colonists didn’t arrive till the turn of the century.”
Kira shifted the baby in her arms. “An eight-year-old girl, stranded alone on a deserted planet.” Her voice cracked. “Poor Molly.”
She pressed an absent kiss to Kirayoshi’s head.
“With any luck,” Odo said, “the Chief will be able to beam her out a few minutes after she fell.” He touched Kira’s shoulder. “She’ll hardly know she was gone.”
Odo took what comfort he could from being allowed this—allowed to be tender with her, to comfort her, as he had always wished to do. The last thing he wanted to think about was their relationship’s inevitable end.
She might love him, might even emotionally accept that he was a Changeling—but that didn’t make him any less alien to her.
He’d give her the world, if he could. He’d give her a home filled with children, duty be damned, if it would make her happy. But he was a Changeling. Physiologically incompatible.
He couldn’t give her children.
Odo watched her softly rock Kirayoshi, glad her arms were occupied.
If she touched him, she’d feel the tremor of his substance.
She’d be concerned.
He didn’t want her smile to fade from her face.
*
Stardate: 51935.2 | Deep Space Nine
“They were trying to steal a runabout,” Lt. Jones reported.
Odo stepped up behind him. The Chief, Keiko, and eighteen-year-old Molly were seated on the step to the airlock, waiting for him.
Molly was mostly sedated, her head lolling against her father’s shoulder and her eyes rolling back. Keiko looked tense, worried. And Odo wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the Chief quite so…defeated.
He'd just wanted to protect his little girl. Enough that even duty no longer mattered.
Odo would never know what that was like.
He looked to Lt. Jones. “Find out if Deputy Pinar has regained consciousness. I’m going to need his statement.”
Jones turned and left. But he was still within earshot; for the moment, at least, Odo needed to look the part of the stern constable. He stepped closer to the O’Briens, folding his arms.
Keiko looked up, a mother’s worry clear in her eyes.
“Odo,” O’Brien said, “please, let us go.”
“I-If you put her back in a holding cell,” Keiko whispered, “she’ll die.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Chief,” Odo said. Then, as Jones’ footsteps faded, “If anyone could break a prisoner out of a holding cell and get them off the station, I’d have thought it would have been you.”
O’Brien hung his head.
Odo pressed the button for the airlock. “On your way.”
The relief that crossed both parents’ features made his breach of protocol worthwhile.
“Thank you,” Keiko whispered.
Odo tolerated her hug, even the grateful kiss she pressed to his cheek. He watched, hands behind his back, as O’Brien and Keiko helped a still-groggy Molly into the airlock.
The Chief looked back.
“Go,” Odo said.
He’d worry about the repercussions later. But somehow he suspected that the captain, a father himself, would understand.
*
Stardate: 51935.5
Odo’s office doors slid open to admit Commander T’Sorra, her chin lifted, her hands clasped behind her back.
He set down his PADD. “Commander.”
“Sir,” T’Sorra said, “may I have a word?”
Odo sighed. Coming from T’Sorra, “a word” only ever meant one thing: a debriefing worthy of Starfleet Intelligence. But by now, he knew that it was easier to humor her than to resist. She was nothing if not persistent.
“Very well,” he muttered.
“You are complicit in the O’Briens’ theft of the Rio Grande,” T’Sorra stated. “True?”
“True.”
“This was a breach of protocol,” T’Sorra said. “Also true?”
“True.”
“Then explain,” T’Sorra said.
Odo eyed her. “Commander, you realize that I don’t answer to you?”
T’Sorra cocked one eyebrow. “If you’d rather I describe your conduct unfavorably in my official report…”
Growling under his breath, Odo stood and folded his arms, staring her down. Two could play her game. “You are, of course, aware of the circumstances surrounding the Chief’s actions?”
“Yes,” T’Sorra said.
“Including the fact that Molly was alone on Golana for a decade?”
T’Sorra barely blinked. “Yes.”
“Then you realize that she was completely unused to human contact,” Odo said, “and could not be held responsible for her actions.”
“True,” T’Sorra said. “But you can.”
“That girl was about to be ripped from her parents’ care and sent to some…specialized care facility.” Odo planted his palms on his desk. “She couldn’t tolerate being trapped in a holding cell; her own adrenaline was literally killing her. And you would have me deny a father the chance to save his daughter?”
T’Sorra lifted her chin. “The decision was yours. I would only have you explain your breach of protocol.”
“Protocol,” Odo said, “does not always align with justice. Even in Starfleet.”
T’Sorra studied him.
“Satisfied?” Odo asked.
There was a moment’s pause. He couldn’t decode the look on her face—and not for lack of trying.
“For now,” T’Sorra finally said.
“Then you’re dismissed.”
A brisk nod. “Sir.”
She spun about-face and exited his office, passing Kira on her way out.
“Odo?” Kira asked.
Odo sighed. “Nerys.”
“What was all that about?”
Odo sank down into his chair. “Just another debriefing from T’Sorra.”
Kira frowned. “What was her problem this time?”
“She seems to disagree with…the way I handled the Chief’s theft of the Rio Grande.”
“Well,” Kira said, “if it’s any consolation, I think you did the right thing. For the Chief…” Her expression softened. “…and for Molly.”
Odo didn’t answer.
She rounded his desk, then leaned against its edge to take his hand in hers. “Thank you.”
“Least I could do,” Odo managed, his voice a bit more gravely than usual.
She leaned down and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was sweet, chaste—they were, after all, still on duty. Nevertheless, Odo relished the contact, letting his eyes slip shut as he relaxed into his chair.
Kira pulled back, still smiling.
And then her smile faded.
“Nerys?” he asked.
Her brows pinched slightly. “Are you alright?”
Odo startled. In his momentary surrender, had he accidentally let something show on his face?
Kira was peering at him, and he needed her to stop.
He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes darted all over his face. “Are you hiding from me?”
“What?” His eyes widened. “Nerys—”
She pressed a finger to his lips.
“Odo,” she said softly, “just, yes or no—is there something you’re not telling me?”
Odo’s breath hitched.
He couldn’t lie to her.
But he also couldn’t tell her yes.
He settled for his only recourse: a silence that settled between them, speaking as loudly as if he’d cried out his pain.
Kira’s eyes held his.
Then she stroked her fingers over his cheek. “When you’re ready, please…talk to me.”
Odo couldn’t make his voice work. His substance had constricted, crushing his facsimile lungs.
“I…will,” he finally managed.
When you’re ready.
That was a promise he could make. The only problem was…he didn’t think he’d ever be ready.
If he talked to her, confided in her, she’d realize he couldn’t give her children.
She’d see the impasse that loomed between them.
Then it would only be a matter of time before he lost her.
Stardate: 51947.5
Odo’s matrix was in knots, and there was nothing he could do about it—so he took it out on Quark.
“Alright,” he said, pacing the length of the bar, “these barstools will have to be removed.”
“Do you know how much they cost?”
“No, and I can’t say I’m interested in learning,” Odo said. He stopped behind Morn. “Station Regulation 2562, paragraph four: ‘All furniture intended for use on the promenade must not pose a danger to public safety.’ ”
“What danger?” Quark protested.
“Without a back on the stool, Morn could tumble from his perch at any moment, shattering his upper vertebrae or puncturing three or four of his lungs.”
Morn started to get up, but Quark pushed him right back down. “Nonsense. His body weight is perfectly distributed across the seat!” He spun Morn to face the dabo wheel. “He’s also better able to enjoy the view of the lovely dabo girls than he was before. And, should he require another drink, he need only…spin back.”
He spun Morn back around to face the bar.
“Which points out another danger,” Odo said, his arms folded. “Vertigo.”
Quark glared. “This isn’t going to give anybody vertigo!”
He spun Morn again—and this time, the Lurian kept spinning.
Odo didn’t care.
“Your appeal has been heard and rejected,” he said. “I want the barstools removed by the end of the day.” Barely pausing for breath, he headed for the dabo wheel. “Now, it’s come to my attention that your dabo wheel is in violation of Station Regulation 4721, which states—”
“Odo!”
A shiver coursed through his substance. “Nerys.”
She strode into the bar, smiling, and by the Prophets themselves, he would do anything to keep that smile on her face.
“You busy?” she asked.
He gravitated toward her. “Not at all.”
“Well, then can I interest you in some lunch?”
“Where shall we go?”
“I was thinking about the Klingon restaurant,” she said, slipping an arm around his waist. “I haven’t been there for ages, and I have been craving boiled krada legs.”
Odo smiled. “As you wish.”
Kira beamed at him, and his substance clenched with a dizzying combination of joy and dread.
Joy, that she still smiled at him like that.
Dread, that it wouldn’t last forever.
If she felt the way his substance quivered beneath her arm, she didn’t comment on it.
*
When Odo strode into Quark’s on his next patrol, his back ramrod-straight and his hands clasped behind him, he saw that the barstools had indeed been replaced.
He tapped the back of Morn’s seat in approval.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” Quark said. “I’m sure nothing gives you more pleasure than stifling my creativity.”
Odo scoffed. “Only you would consider barstools to be a form of artistic expression.”
“Oh yeah?” Quark asked. “Let’s see how creative you are.”
Odo ignored him, scanning for anything amiss as he headed deeper into the bar. He wasn’t even interested in harassing Quark, right now—if he could just focus on his work, on his duty, then maybe the tightness in his matrix would release. Just for a moment.
Then Quark’s next words stopped him in his tracks. “Have you…picked out the Major’s gift yet?”
Odo turned. “Gift?”
“For this Saturday.”
Odo peered at him.
“You do know what Saturday is, right?” Quark said.
Odo folded his arms. He knew what Saturday was to him. But what could Quark be referring to?
“It’s your one-month anniversary with Major Kira,” Quark said.
“How do you know that?”
“Come now, Odo,” Quark said. “You told Dr. Bashir.”
Ahh.
Odo sighed, rolling his eyes. “And Dr. Bashir told Dax, who told—”
“—me,” Quark said.
Well, he had told the doctor it wasn’t a secret.
He just hadn’t wanted the pressure of social expectations. He’d wanted to bask in Kira’s light, to enjoy the pure contentment that her love brought him—not worry over what the others thought of him, whether he was acting the part of a romantic partner.
“So,” Quark said, “you haven’t picked out a gift?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“I’m just saying,” Quark said, “Saturday’s only a few days away. You’re running out of time.”
Odo pinned him with a glare. “If you’re trying to sell me something—”
“You think I’m going to get involved?” Quark said, incredulous. “No thank you. The last thing I want to deal with is a panicked lover looking for a gift at the last minute.”
Scoffing, he gestured past Odo to the promenade.
“There’s a whole promenade of shopkeepers out there,” he said, “if you wanna buy a gift.”
Quark bustled away and busied himself behind the bar.
Odo, meanwhile, stood stiff as a board, tension cramping through his substance.
A one-month anniversary gift…wasn’t there a chapter on gifts in that book?
Was he failing in his observance of Bajoran romantic customs?
Odo made a beeline for his office.
*
There was a chapter on gifts.
But not just gifts.
It emphasized the setting as much as the gift itself. The importance of letting the real world fall away, just for a while. Of getting away together, spending time just basking in the moment.
Odo could do that. All he wanted was to focus on the present moment. To forget their relationship’s inevitable end.
The only problem, then, was logistics. He and Kira couldn’t realistically leave for Bajor; she was the station’s first officer and he was chief of security. Neither of them could get away easily.
That left one of their quarters…or a holosuite. And while Odo hesitated to rely upon an artificially constructed environment, he couldn’t deny that it would give him the chance to “take” Kira somewhere special.
All that remained was to choose her gift. And suffer the hit to his dignity that would come from paying Quark for an evening in a holosuite.
*
Odo planted his palms on the bar. “Quark.”
Quark popped up from behind it. “What’d I do?”
Odo smirked. “You tell me.”
Quark rolled his eyes. “Nice try.”
He started for the drink replicator.
“Wait!” Odo ordered.
Tentatively, Quark turned.
“Let me see your holoprogram selection,” Odo said.
Quark squinted. “You’re having me on.”
“Not at all.”
Quark squinted harder.
Odo just held out his hand, tapping his outstretched fingers together.
“You’re serious,” Quark said.
“Completely.”
“You want to book a holosuite?”
Odo huffed a sigh. “Do you want the latinum or not?”
Quark moved faster than a Denebian viper, handing over his case of holorods.
Odo had just turned for the stairs when Quark spoke behind him.
“Is this for your anniversary?”
Odo turned, flashing a tiny smile. “If you must know—it is.”
He headed up the stairs, his matrix loosening for the first time in weeks.
Maybe, just maybe, if he could get this right…maybe Kira would choose him.
*
“I’ll take this one,” Odo said, handing over the holorod.
“Ahh.” Quark smiled as he read the label. “Jalanda Forum, 2352. That’s certainly…unique. I’m sure the Major will love it.”
“Well,” Odo said, “book us four hours starting at 2100 on Saturday night.”
As he handed back the holorod case, he swore he caught Quark suppress a devious smile.
Odo spied Jake, who occupied the nearest barstool. Come to think of it, Jake had been near Quark every time Odo had come into the bar today…
He shot Jake a questioning glance, but was met with a nonchalant shrug.
Honestly—what could Jake possibly have to do with Quark? When Odo ran through his checklist of shady characters to surveil, Captain Sisko’s son didn’t exactly come to mind.
Shaking his head with a light “hmph,” Odo headed out of the bar.
*
Odo stopped at a stall on the promenade operated by a kindly Bajoran woman. Yutem Ilka, he knew from his records.
“Constable Odo?” Her eyes lit with curiosity—and the slightest hint of confusion. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” Odo assured her. “Right now, I’m a customer.”
“Oh!” Her face lit up; then she sobered again, peering at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to browse promenade displays. Not unless you’re inspecting the goods, that is.”
Odo managed a light chuckle. “First time for everything.”
“Indeed.” Quickly, Yutem drew herself straight and clasped her hands, her expression softening into a shopkeeper’s warm confidence. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“A gift,” Odo replied, scanning her counter display. “For Major Kira.”
“Ah.” There was a twinkle in her eye. “It’s been a month, hasn’t it?”
Odo glanced up at her in barely veiled surprise. Yutem pressed her lips together in amusement.
Almost six years into maintaining security on Deep Space Nine, and the speed with which news spread on this station still managed to surprise Odo. Yutem barely even knew him, beyond a station resident’s basic familiarity with the senior staff.
“…Indeed,” Odo said, more gruffly than he intended.
Then his gaze caught on an item on the shelf behind her, just over her shoulder.
A small stone tablet, barely larger than the palm of his hand.
Yutem followed his gaze.
She considered him. “Do you know what it is?”
Odo nodded.
“That is typically given…somewhat later, in a courtship,” Yutem said. “But if you wish, I can have it engraved in two days.”
Odo hesitated.
He knew he was ready for the sentiment implied by a promise charm. He was irrevocably Kira’s, forever—no matter if their relationship lasted or ended tomorrow. But Kira might not ultimately choose him.
He was alien to her, after all. There was so much he couldn’t give her.
“I’ll…wait,” he finally said.
If Yutem sensed his turmoil, she didn’t show it. Then again, few humanoids could interpret what he laughably called facial expressions.
That was useful, in his line of work. And he had long since become used to his isolation.
“I have a more varied selection behind the counter,” Yutem said, “if you would care to browse?”
Odo nodded. “Please.”
*
Kira was breathtaking.
He’d always known she was beautiful. But when she met him in his office in a flowing robe hemmed with golden satin, her bright smile lighting up her face, Odo swore his entire world ground to a halt.
Kira’s smile turned teasing. “Odo?”
Just like that, his world started spinning again. He remembered to breathe.
“You’re…beautiful,” he murmured, rounding his desk to take her hands in his.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Kira said. She glanced up and down his form. “Though you’re not planning on taking me out in your security uniform, are you?”
Odo blinked rapidly. It took a solid second for her words to register.
“Oh!” He shook himself, then shut his eyes, concentrating on mimicking the folded layers of his own robe. “Better?”
Kira looked him up and down a second time, now with appreciation. “Much!”
The exchange reminded him vaguely of a time, years ago now, just before she had gotten involved with Shakaar. When she’d stood next to him at the First Minister’s diplomatic reception, and asked him why he didn’t “wear” that belt anymore.
How times had changed.
“So,” Kira said, “are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
Odo smiled warmly. “I was…hoping to surprise you.”
Kira grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
“Well.” Odo plucked her gift box off the edge of his desk and offered his other arm. “Shall we?”
Kira’s eyes were bright as she tucked her arm through his.
Striding down the promenade in full Bajoran formal robes was a…unique experience. Not altogether unpleasant; if having Kira in his life meant embracing his romantic side for all to see, letting the station’s inhabitants see something other than the dour investigator, he could live with that. He just hoped it would last.
As they entered Quark’s, he shook away those thoughts. He didn’t need them spoiling their night.
He wanted—needed—this to be perfect.