Emotion tightened Shar’s throat. He swallowed, opened his mouth, but nothing emerged. Continuing to stare at her, he reached for her hands and squeezed them.
“It’s a small thing, Shar. You’ve more than paid for the right to take these.” Standing up, she lay her cheek in his hair for a moment and walked away. When he shook off his astonishment, he searched the courtyard for her, but she had vanished, leaving his life very much the way she had come into it.
The doors to his quarters opened and Nog poked his head out. “Hey, Shar. I’ve decided to head back to the ship. The commander called a minute ago. He said an encrypted message came through marked ‘eyes only,’ but apparently it was for you and not Vaughn. He’s having it rerouted here.”
“Thank you, Nog,” Shar said, gazing at the egg container. “I’ll be along soon. But I want to sit here for a few minutes longer.”
“Okay. I’ll see you shipboard then?”
Shar nodded.
He ran his fingers over Keren’s gift, imagining that the answers he’d sought his entire life might lie within. Bowing his head, he covered his eyes, offering gratitude to whatever power in the universe had brought him to this place at this time. He would never regret the choices that brought him here; he would never be the same person after today. For a moment he meditated, savoring the gentle trickle of water spilling over the fountain, the occasional rustle of leaves. When he opened his eyes, he was ready to return to duty. Holding the gift protectively against him, he entered his quarters.
* * *
Sleeping late was a rare indulgence, but it felt nice to flaunt the routine one last time before starting up the rigors of co-commanding a Starfleet mission. Soon enough, Ezri would be stumbling into the mess, muttering her request to the replicator and feeling her way to a table. Choosing to loll about, half dressed, eating a breakfast of succulent fresh fruits and licking the juice off your fingers wasn’t something she anticipated being able to do before she returned to Deep Space 9. Never mind that she had the guest quarters to herself. To provide him with adequate time to restock the medical bay, Julian had reported to duty two hours ago. Ezri stayed behind, wrapped up in her covers, relishing the warmth streaming through the courtyard windows. A check of the chronometer indicated she still had another hour before she met with Vaughn to allocate duty shifts. A walk. A walk sounds nice. She pulled on an old favorite pair of Academy sweats and ambled out to the balcony.
Spending these weeks on Luthia made her wonder if more nature could be incorporated into the station’s auspices. Outside the arboretum and a few botany labs, assuaging a craving for trees and flowers required time in a holosuite, or a trip to Bajor. Leisurely, Ezri walked down the stairs, bending over to examine the fragrant ground cover. She took a seat on a bench, throwing her legs out in front of her, throwing back her head and closing her eyes, soaking up the light for a last few precious minutes.
“…I wish there was something we could have done. Dr. Girani had no idea the infirmary was missing anything and…”
Ezri sat up straight. I swear I heard voices.
“—until you come home. I don’t know what else to tell you. The others are too distraught to speak right now.”
She twisted around, trying to see who might still be in quarters because if she had to guess, she’d just heard Charivretha zh’Thane. Maybe I drank too much wine last night or those chocolate pastries didn’t sit well with my stomach. Shar’s courtyard door was open, the curtains blowing. Cautiously, Ezri approached the open door. The closer she came, the more clear the voice and as she listened, the context became clear. Standing outside, Ezri braced herself on the doorway, willing her thudding heart to stop. What can I do? She considered walking away. Invading his privacy right now could be exactly the wrong thing—or it could be exactly what he needed. She pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside.
With his back to the courtyard door, he sat on the floor in front of the console. She had been right—the speaker was zh’Thane. The Federation Councillor sat in a chair in what looked like VIP quarters on DS9, the pain etched on her face expressing more than her words could.
“Her death was painless. I know you wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer. None of us understand why she did it. She seemed—better. I am sorry, my chei.”
The screen turned to static and then the message replayed.
“Thirishar, I wish I could be sending this message under happier circumstances, but a great tragedy has befallen us—”
Ezri knelt down, touched Shar’s shoulder. He turned with a start, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. Wide-eyed, he stared at Ezri, his pain, unfathomable. Helplessness swelled inside her and she ached for him. She opened and closed her mouth several times, searching for words. I shouldn’t be here. Zh’Thane’s heartbreaking message continued to play in the background. What can I give him? I’m not equipped for this—I can’t make it better! From deep inside her, an answer, of a kind, came. Not so much an answer as a knowing, a knowing from Dax.
You. He needs you, Ezri.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry…” She gathered him into her arms and he yielded to her touch.
They wept together.
Epilogue
“I’m not an invalid!” protested Kasidy.
“No, you’re not,” Kira said patiently, clearing the dessert plates off the coffee table and heading off to the kitchen, “but you’ve spent the last half hour rubbing your arches. Your feet must be killing you after our walk today. Let me remind you that visiting every last stall at the market was your idea.”
“If my feet get any bigger, I’m going to have to attach warnings to my shoes saying, ‘Watch out—wide berth.’” Wincing, she threw her body forward, hoping the momentum would help her off the couch. The baby, however, had different ideas, choosing that moment to thrust its head squarely into her diaphragm. She grunted as it suddenly became hard to breathe. “I’ll think I’ll just stay here for a bit,” she said, settling back into the cushions. From across the room, Kasidy saw Kira grin.
“Having a laugh at my expense, Colonel?” Kasidy teased, grateful that Kira had gradually unwound over the past few days; initially, her smiles had been infrequent.
Upon arrival, Kira had been so pale (Kasidy swore she’d lost weight as well), Kasidy thought she might be coming down with something serious. A more logical explanation for her condition quickly became apparent: she hadn’t been on Bajor an hour before the station contacted her, with the next message arriving fifteen minutes after the first. Kasidy had quickly instituted a daily pattern of long walks—asking Kira to leave her combadge back at the house.
Kira scraped chocolate frosting off the plates into the recycler and deposited the plates in the sink to be washed later. “I was just remembering this time…a month before Kirayoshi was born. Sitting in Quark’s with Jadzia, I’d probably had a liter of juice. The little guy decided it’d be a good time to play hoverball with my bladder.”
It was Kasidy’s turn to laugh, relating all too well to Kira’s anecdote. Throwing her legs up so she sat sideways, Kas rested her chin on the back of the couch and watched Kira continue cleaning up. Though the meal had been simple, salads made with fresh greens and vegetables from her garden and squash soup, old-fashioned cooking tended to make a mess no matter how many shortcuts technology might provide.
“I vote we replicate breakfast,” Kira said, pouring the last of the soup into a storage container. Clearing off the counters, she shuttled clean goblets into the cupboard and tossed a handful of kater pods into the produce basket. Wiping her hands on a towel, she crossed back to the sitting room and resumed her perch on Kasidy’s favorite overstuffed chair.
“Cooking can be bothersome,” Kasidy conceded, “but there’s nothing quite as satisfying as getting your hands dirty doing something and then enjoying the fruits of your labors.”
“You know…you sound like Benjamin when you talk like that,” Kira said wistfully.
“I think that’s one of
the reasons I cook: it helps me keep him close.”
“Do you—” Kira began, but hesitated.
“Get lonely?” she said, completing the question. “Miss him?” Since Kira arrived, they both had kept their conversations light. Kas assumed Kira needed the respite from her worries about the station as much as Kas needed to stop dwelling on Jake.
“I wasn’t trying to be nosy,” Kira apologized.
Kasidy held up a hand to stop her. “Everyone wonders and my honest answer is, of course. After the station—after being a ship’s captain—the quiet around here took some getting used to. Now I actually like it.” She said it and she meant it. At first, Kasidy followed through with the “dream house” project because she felt like she owed it to Ben. Gradually, she became caught up in the details, grateful to be staying busy. She was surprised how much time she spent selecting the stones for the fireplace, talking with the carpenter who carved the mantel, and finding just the right hand-thrown pottery plates that would sit on her kitchen table. Attributing her preoccupation with rugs and end tables to a maternal nesting instinct felt plausible to her. Then one day, standing in this very room she sat in now, she was savoring the warm sun streaming through the windows when she realized that she loved it here. This was her home. Her lullabies would whisper through its rafters. Fresh asters and Bajoran lilacs from the garden she planted would fill vases in every room. Jake—and Ben—would return here. Until then, she would make it ready to welcome them. “I have my fears,” she said at last. “And I’d sleep easier knowing Jake was safe, but I’m happy.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Kas. You’ve had more than your share of heartache since the war ended,” Kira said, turning her gaze to watch the evening’s first moonrise.
“We all have,” Kasidy replied. “I hardly have a monopoly on suffering. I consider myself very blessed. You’ve shouldered your share of struggles.”
“Mine are relatively small,” she said lightly. Since her arrival, Kira had avoided talking about any work-related problems she might be having, focusing instead on Kasidy’s baby, her search for dependable farm help, Jake, and the general political situation. Kas assumed that Kira didn’t want to “needlessly worry the pregnant lady,” a sentiment she’d become intimately familiar with. As the days passed, however, Kasidy began suspecting Kira’s reticence wasn’t solely motivated by benevolence. Perhaps, being immersed in DS9 and Bajor’s needs had acclimated Kira to ignoring her own. And that’s not good, she thought. “It’s my turn to ask an impertinent question, Nerys.”
“Fire away.”
“Are you happy?”
Kira snorted. “Kas—”
“I’m not budging from this spot until you tell me what’s on your mind,” Kasidy said.
Kira inhaled deeply. She toyed with the macramé vest she wore, threading her fingers through the holes. “There’s not a simple answer. I wouldn’t necessarily change my life—” she lifted heavy lidded eyes to Kasidy “—except the Attainder. That I could do without.” The weak smile she offered Kas failed to offset her worry wrinkles.
Kira carries her burdens in her eyes. Shades of Benjamin, Kasidy thought, imagining she could see the mantle of command bestowed upon her friend by her husband. “Talk to me. I’ve been told I’m a good listener—and I know how to keep a secret.”
Considering Kasidy for a long moment, Kira’s brow furrowed. “Where to start? Double-dealing Shakaar, the peace talks mess, the daughter-in-law of the Federation councillor’s suicide—and that’s the appetizer. Believe me, Kas, you don’t want to hear about this.”
“Yes I do,” Kasidy insisted. “You’ve done a great job catching me up on all the station gossip, though I’m still not sure what to make of Lieutenant Ro, um, socializing with Quark. Now I want the rest of it.”
Kira rose from her chair and walked over to turn on the fireplace. Resting her arm against the river rocks, she stared into the flames. “You know I even tried knitting? And I found it incredibly frustrating. I followed the instructions from the database to the letter and no matter how meticulously I worked, I managed to drop stitches or purl when I was supposed to knit. When the yarn became all tangled up and knotted, I figured, the hell with this! And that’s how I feel things are at the station right now—just like my knitting.” She ran her hand along the mantel’s smoothly carved curves and curlicues, pausing to pick up the amber-gold figurine given to Kasidy by Prylar Eivos. “I do the best that I know how to do and where has that gotten us? Promenade fights, vandalism, threats against the Cardassian delegation. I hate saying it, but I almost miss the war. At least then we knew who we were fighting and what we were fighting for.”
“Nerys, I’m no expert on commanding a—” The door chime rang. Oh, who could that be? Kasidy thought irritably. In her early days here, well-meaning Bajorans seeking to “help” the Emissary’s wife stopped by, uninvited, as if she were building a shrine, not a house. Gradually, as all parties came to an understanding she’d stopped being a curiosity to the locals. Now her neighbors vigorously protected her privacy, refusing to dole out the smallest tidbit to strangers seeking her, even those on religious pilgrimages.I hope there’s not an emergency. Wouldn’t they call first? Kasidy scooted to the edge of the couch, psyching herself up for whoever might be visiting.
“I’ll get it,” Kira said. She set the figurine down on the coffee table and vanished into the foyer.
“I’m not an invalid,” Kasidy muttered, pushing up onto her feet and following after Kira. The baby snuggled into her ribs; she paused to push gently on the head, trying to dislodge it. No luck. She heard the beeps of Kira tapping in the lock release.
“You?” came her visitor’s shocked exclamation.
“Not who you were expecting, Vedek Yevir?” Kira said.
Inwardly, Kasidy groaned, wishing she could become invisible; Yevir was about as welcome as a malfunctioning phaser in the middle of a firefight. While she found most Bajoran clerics to be pleasant (being the Emissary’s wife meant they were on their best behavior around her), Yevir was the exception. Kasidy couldn’t stomach his sanctimoniousness, how he wrapped his unapologetic quest to be kai in a cloak of piety. He’d shown his true character when he slapped the Attainder on Kira; Kasidy wasn’t prepared to forgive him for what she believed to be a vindictive, politically motivated punishment. That Bajor would be better off with Yevir as kai than they were with Winn was doubtful to Kasidy’s way of thinking. For a moment, Kasidy considered turning back around and hiding in the sitting room. Kira would get rid of him.
…But how fair was that to Kira.
Kasidy turned the corner and saw Kira had blocked the doorway, arms linked across her chest. From her posture, Kasidy surmised it would take a Klingon with a bat’leth to pass into the vestibule.
“With all due respect, Vedek, why not go back to town and call back in the morning? Make an appointment with Captain Yates,” Kira said coldly.
Peering at the vedek from behind Kira, Kasidy said, “So you were in the neighborhood and thought you’d stop by for a visit?”
Her tone provoked a deep pink flush in Yevir’s cheeks. His eyes fixed on Kasidy. “I know I’ve come without an invitation, Captain Yates, but my business is urgent. I’ve come to believe Bajor’s spiritual health is at stake.”
Kira was impressed. To Kasidy, she said, “I’ll take care of this.” And to Yevir, “Take it up with the Vedek Assembly.”
Kasidy stopped her. “I’m not the Emissary, Vedek. Even though it seems I keep having to remind people—”
“Please,” Yevir said. “Captain, I need—I assure you the situation is quite dire.” Yevir took a step toward Kasidy. Kira glared at him and he promptly stepped back.
Still the master of overstatement, Kas thought, and still unable to take a hint.“I’m sorry, but we were in the middle of something and—”
“A moment of your time—that’s all I ask. I beg of you.” The look in his eyes was imploring.
Suspecting he might be prostrat
e on the porch at any moment, Kasidy wondered what to do next. If she shut the door on him he’d probably still be around at dawn. Kasidy sighed. I can’t put Nerys through that. To Kira she said, “Why don’t you start walking without me? I’ll catch up with you after the Vedek leaves.” Please Nerys, take the hint, she wished fervently.
Puzzled, Kira looked over her shoulder at Kasidy, raising a questioning eyebrow. Kasidy shrugged as if to say, Let’s just get this over with.
Kira stepped aside, gesturing for Yevir to enter.
When he made a visible point of squeezing through the door frame rather than touch Kira, Kasidy began to wonder if she’d regret her invitation. She indicated she wanted Yevir to follow her to the sitting room where she and Kira had been only minutes before. Kasidy felt Kira’s eyes trained on their backs as she waited for Yevir to misstep.
If Kira’s scrutiny bothered Yevir, he didn’t show it. Walking behind Kasidy, Yevir’s apologies continued until they were both seated. Once Kasidy heard the door close—with Kira on the outside—she felt reassured that her friend would be spared any further indignities.
Dealing with Yevir should be easy in comparison to some of the tight spots she’d had to negotiate her way out of over the years. She recalled arguing with a Nausicaan who insisted Kasidy had picked up the wrong cargo. He was difficult; Yevir was merely bothersome.
Since Yevir had been the one to request speaking with her, Kasidy expected him to initiate the discussion. She would nod her head politely in response, tell him there was nothing she could do and send him on his way. Folding her hands in her lap, Kasidy waited.
Yevir sat perched on the edge of the chair, blinking nervously, saying nothing, unwilling or unable to meet her eyes. Uncomfortable silence followed.
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