Fic: Choices of the Phophets
Title: Choices of the Prophets
Author: vegawriters
Series: Tears of the Prophets
Fandom: Star Trek: DS9
Pairing: Kira/Shakaar (mentions of Kira/Bareil and Shakaar/Caldra Troi (OFC)
Rating: Mature
Timeframe: Shakkar - Crossfire
A/N: I’m not a fan of Kira and Odo as lovers (I think their friendship is fascinating). I respect what they ended up doing with that romantic storyline, but I’m far more interested in her other relationships - both canon and not.
Disclaimer: Sometimes it feels like DS9 owns my soul, but alas, I do not make a penny off of this. If there are any Trek peeps trolling around, reading fic when they aren’t supposed to be, I’m available for hire. ;)
Summary: But tonight wasn’t about long, lingering thoughts of dead soulmates.
Another night in the capital. Another night he couldn’t sleep. Another night of pacing the quarters donated to him by the military commanders so he could manage the election and also learn about the policies he was needing to grasp. The election was only two days away and if the polls were to believed, he’d already won. The notion was terrifying.
Edon missed his farm. He knew it was safe. He knew Furel and Lupaza were looking after the land and keeping up with the house. But safety wasn’t the issue here - he missed his farm. He missed the windows in the kitchen and the comfortable reading chair he’d built himself. He missed getting up with the sun to beg and barter with the land. In an instant, in a heartbeat, everything about his life changed. And even though he knew the Prophets had called him to this place, to this moment, Edon also wasn’t quite sure he was ready for what came next.
It was silly to question the next steps. He knew what he’d given up when he entered the race and stepped into the image he (and so many other) resistance leaders shouldered. It was easy to dream of walking away into the dustbin of history, but Bajor had only been free for a few years and as Nerys had reminded him - leaders then were leaders now. But, he enjoyed his quiet, enjoyed time with books he could now read and woodwork he could now focus on. Two months ago, Jeril finally had the capacity to open a tavern and four years after the occupation ended, their sleepy hamlet had a place to gather and argue politics and religion. Chora’s market was alive every day from sunup to dusk, and the days were full of conversation and strong coffee and merchants selling spring wine and hesperat. Away from the eyes of the capital, his small home was everything he and Caldra ever dreamed of.
But, Caldra wasn’t here. She hadn’t been for years. Deanna’s last message was still saved in his comm channel, her gentle She would be so proud of you … ringing in his ears. But he didn’t want her to be proud of him. He wanted her to be here with him, egging him on. Did anyone realize how similar Betazed and Bajoran women were?
The timepiece on the wall ticked over a new hour, ever closer to a meeting with the Second Minister. Edon finally moved back to the communications console and opened the file, staring at the flagged file. Kira’s last letter was there, giving advice on how to deal with the Vedek assembly in the rural areas and he could tell how much she’d learned from Bareil. He took the words to heart, but it was less about the politics and more about the connection.
Since the uprising, they’d talked every day. They sent letters at least once a week. What had started out as obligatory connections had settled back into what they’d always been before the world changed - friends.
But, was there something more?
He felt like a teenager with a crush. But that didn’t stop him from opening up a new commpage.
Kira -
Thank you for your advice on Vedek Nelis. Truth is, she scared me fifteen years ago and she scares me now. I will in fact send her a basket of colapples.
Just a few days away. I can’t believe this is the road the Prophets have laid out for me. And maybe you were right - maybe this was their plan decades ago when I first picked up a rifle against the Cardassians. Not that I’d ever have envisioned this then.
There’s always a bed in the house for you. Don’t be a stranger. You’re missed, here.
I miss you.
-Shakaar
***
Kira sighed as she closed the note. It was a quiet morning - just her and her meditation and a raktajino before the chaos of the day. Her eyes lingered on the corner where the duranya had sat for three months, where the flame had burned in memoriam of Antos. The death chant she’d cried herself so often to sleep with now only rolling around her mind, an ever present mantra.
Part of her still wanted to believe she’d been wrong and hadn’t buried him. That she would wake up and he’d be there, already meditating, her breakfast waiting.
Her eyes drifted to the altar, to the candles, to the bracelet that had sat since Bashir had handed it to her following Antos’ final surgery. He’d had it wrapped in his robes, waiting for the right moment. She’d have married him in an instant if he’d only asked. But now, she sat, still and alone. Lonely. Full of secrets and regrets that only prayer carried away and even then, the Prophets felt so distant. How could they have done this? What was their plan? She knew she had to trust, but she also hated the uncertainty.
Glancing back at the comm panel, Kira opened the note and hit reply, but her note wasn’t regarding anything Shakaar had written to her.
How do you deal with her loss, Edon?
But she deleted it.
How do you get up every day?
Again, delete.
Again. Again.
Finally, she closed the panel. After all, it was getting late and her shift was starting. She’d respond later, once she’d managed to get into the day and shake off her dreams. Anyway, by now he was deep into meetings and didn’t need her advice.
Did he?
***
Kira,
I know you got the formal invitation, but tell me you’re coming to this thing. I can’t bear the thought of smiling at the Kai without you there to cut her down.
-Shakaar
A smile crossed her face as she hit the reply -
Shakaar -
Of course I’ll be there. I’ll even get my dress uniform cleaned.
-Kira
***
The longer she lived on DS9, Kira could almost forget the Cardassian architecture around her. Almost. The station was always just a little too hot or a little too cold, and tonight was a night for a favorite sweater, a present from Jadzia their first year serving together. What do you mean you’ve never celebrated your birthday? Kira had been embarrassed to admit she barely knew when her birthday was and that she suspected what was in her records was not the actual date. It wasn’t like there were birth records kept in refugee camps. But the gesture from the Trill who was now one of her closest friends had been so sweet, so touching, and Kira had fallen into the soft-spun wool from a Bajoran store down in the capital. It had been worn so often now that the sleeves didn’t stay quite as well, and it drooped where she tended to tuck herself into the fabric. It was perfect.
Antos had always loved it on her, loved taking it off of her. She’d loved how he would slide his fingers up her sides, just light enough to keep from tickling her, but with enough pressure that her skin would pebble in anticipation. Once, she’d been called away early to deal with a station emergency and when she returned hours later, he’d been asleep with her sweater as a pillow.
But tonight wasn’t about long, lingering thoughts of dead soulmates. Kira had work to do. Forms to manage for both Starfleet and Bajor. She had accounts to reconcile and schedules to manage. So of course, rather than focusing, she found herself scrolling the Bajoran news feeds and making note of the chatter regarding the lack of services in the Western corner of Singha and the lack of trust in Shakaar from the more conservative political elite. Kira rolled her eyes. He’d fought for their freedom to return Bajor to a lifestyle that had been part of what had left them open to occupation. Who were they to be trusted?
Her comm chimed. She glanced at the message icon and tapped it. Anything to avoid paperwork.
You don’t have to wear your uniform - the note read.
She stared at the words, unsure of how to respond. What? She was supposed to go down to Garak’s and --
I’m sorry. The words came in the message almost before the chime. I know you do. I don’t know what I’m thinking.
Words frustrated her, so she opened the comm channel. A few seconds later, an exhausted looking Shakaar stared at her from the kitchen of his farmhouse. She was glad he’d been able to escape back there.
“Are you okay?” She asked, suddenly struck by just how blue his eyes were. They’d always done that when he was nervous.
“Nerys …”
“Hey,” she shook her head, “hey, listen to me. You’ve got this.”
“I’m just a resistance fighter who wanted to be a farmer.”
She met his eyes across the distance to Bajor. “You’re a hero. And a leader. Every single one of us who made it through would follow you into the Valley of the Wraiths, Edon. I believe in you. We all do.” Silence, and she saw just how scared he really was and somehow, she knew what he needed to hear. “Caldra would be proud of you, Edon.” Tears filled his eyes. “She loved you. She loved you so much. And I’m so sorry she isn’t here now to …” she sighed, knowing full well that if Edon was married to an off-worlder, his path to leadership wouldn’t have been so easy. But that didn’t matter because Caldra had been dragged from the camp in front of all of them, screaming through the phaser fire, until one of the Cardassians had beaten her senseless in front of all of them. In front of Edon, who they held in place and forced him to watch, helpless.
Every single one of them had prayed she’d died before they threw her on that skimmer and drove away.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I …” he let out a breath. “Thank you.”
Somehow saying that his beloved was walking with the Prophets felt hollow. Especially since Caldra wasn’t Bajoran. Then again, she was ready to deck the next person who told her Bareil was with their gods. So she offered him half a smile and he returned it, understanding in his eyes.
“He was going to ask me to marry him,” Kira said, surprising both of them with the admission. “I was going to say yes.”
“I’m so sorry, Nerys.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Silence. So much silence in Bajoran conversations. So many dead to remember.
“I should let you sleep,” he murmured.
“It’s okay,” Kira smiled. “I was scrolling the newsfeeds instead of doing paperwork for the Council of Ministers.”
He laughed. “Anything interesting?”
She laughed. “Apparently there’s a new book coming out about a Cardassian who falls in love with a Bajoran and learns the errors of his ways.”
Both of them broke out laughing. “Can’t I put some kind of ban on that drivel?” Shakaar asked.
“Not if we want a free press. But you should put more capital into elevating the voices of Bajorans who don’t have access to print in the same ways. Especially if you want to keep pursuing Federation membership.”
“Damnit,” he muttered. “But you’re right.”
Silence again, but an easier one.
“I should let you go …” he said again.
“You don’t have to. We can just leave the comm link open. I can work. You can work …”
Shakaar smiled and nodded. “That sounds perfect.”
***
No one needed to know that her skin still tingled, just slightly where his fingers had pressed into her hip while they were dancing. No one needed to know that when they’d slipped away for just a few moments of air that he’d touched the small of her back and looked into his eyes and she’d seen herself not as the dutiful soldier but an equal. An equal of the leader of her planet.
“Who would have guessed,” he said as she stepped closer to him in the cool night, “that when we were just struggling to find food that we’d end up here.”
“You did,” she’d told him. “Whether you realize it or not. It’s why we were so blindingly devoted, Edon. You gave us hope.”
If he’d kissed her then, she’d have let him take her to his bed. Instead, his staff had found him and the moment was broken and by the end of the night she was back in the guest quarters in the Military section of the capital, catching a few hours of sleep before the transport back to Bajor in the morning.
No one had needed to know that somewhere between letters and staying up all night working with the comm link open between them, that things were starting to change. No one needed to know, because she wasn’t ready to know.
Not yet.
***
He wasn’t sure why he’d confided in Odo. He was uneasy around the other man, cautious because of his history on the station. He knew Odo’s record, knew he’d earned trust with both Bajorans and Cardassians by being fair. But the harsh reality was that laws he’d been enforcing were Cardassian in origin, which meant even if he was fair, he was still collaborating with the enemy. Nerys trusted him though, and that mattered. So, he’d unloaded his dreams and wishes about their mutual friend like he’d been gossiping about some girl in a neighboring cell. But the truth was, it just felt good to let it out. To tell someone. To admit into the open that he was, in fact, falling in love.
If Odo seemed uncomfortable, Edon wasn’t sure what to do with that. To be fair, Odo always seemed uncomfortable. After all, being the only one of his kind amid a world where he had no connection to anyone else would make anyone uncomfortable, really. So, he didn’t push the moment when Odo got up to leave, or worry about anything other than taking a breath once he was alone.
Did he have to be alone?
It was late, and he knew it would mess up station security if he went for a walk, but he wanted to see Nerys. Wanted to talk to her. He wanted to watch her eyes light up and see the stars reflected in them. He wanted to touch her hand again, feel her breath as he leaned in for a kiss.
For the first time since Caldra, he felt capable of opening his heart again, of finding comfort with someone.
Imzadi doesn’t mean you can’t love other people, she’d said with a smile one night, projecting gently into his mind. It means that you understand how vast the capability for love is.
She’d proven that over and over, showing love was more than flowers and gentle words. Love was putting her body between Bajoran children and Cardassians, was picking up a phaser, was leveraging her family’s power as best she could. Staring out at the starfield, Edon knew she was right. That it was time to move on. Love, after all, was not clinging to a dream that the past would be fixed. It was daring to move into the future.
***
Kira wanted it to be awkward. She wanted to bumble over herself while the candles burned low, while the wine bottle emptied. She wanted to tell herself - and him - that this was a passing fancy, a crush, a chance for her heart to heal. For his. But the truth was, they knew each other better than simply two soldiers who had fought in the trenches and watched those they loved die for their freedom. She knew, better than anyone, why he carried that empty look in his eye and why, when he reached for her, when his fingers trailed along her cheek, he paused and pulled back.
“Edon?” Kira asked, catching his hand in hers. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”
Silence descended as his gaze turned back to the firelight. “She’s been gone ten years, Nerys, and I still feel like maybe I’m being unfaithful. That gap in my heart, it’s never gone away. My mind still reaches for her.”
“Would Caldra want you to be lonely, Edon?”
He closed his eyes and brought her hand to his lips, kissing each finger softly. “Would Antos?”
“You would think,” she said after a long moment, “that losing people they way we have over the years would make this part easier.”
“She was my Imzadi,” he said, his accent changing ever so slightly with the word. “We touched each other’s souls.”
“He was my first love,” Kira said quietly, “and the father of a daughter he only learned about when he was unconscious on a bio bed, ready to die.”
“Why couldn’t you ever tell him?”
“What?” Kira chuckled, the tears rising in her eyes. “Hey, Antos, remember how we had that whirlwind romance as teenagers and then we didn’t see each other again even though we somehow always sent letters and somehow in that time I never bothered to tell you that I left the baby on Betazed because I wasn’t sure we’d live to see tomorrow?”
“You know he’d have supported you. Supported the decision. He lived through the occupation too.”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“This turned dark,” Edon said, a half chuckle in his voice. “Do you think that maybe we are doing this to ourselves because we’re scared?”
“Or because we’re worried about what the Prophets think is right?”
“I think,” Edon said, turning his gaze back to her, “that the Prophets wouldn’t want us to torture ourselves.”
She laughed at the old joke, the justification for the nights of debauchery they’d all allowed themselves while blowing off steam. But in this moment, in the candlelight, she knew he was right. And this time, when he touched her cheek, he didn’t pull away. Instead, the kiss was long and sweet and Kira found herself sliding into his lap and straddling him. His mouth worked her neck, her earlobe, all the while she could feel him hardening under her.
“Edon …” she murmured, tired of waiting, tired of not being touched. He helped push her duster to the floor, moved his hands over her, and when his fingertips grazed her nipples she groaned and he stopped.
“You aren’t the kid I watched grow up,” he said as his hands moved up under her shirt and she helped pull it from her body. “For which I am very glad.”
Kira laughed, knowing how it could have been. After all, teenage Nerys had crushed on her mentor. But adult Nerys wanted to know what Edon would feel like nestled between her legs while his mouth worked her neck. When his lips closed over her nipple, she gasped, tightening her knees around him, grinding her hips down to meet him as he arched just slightly up. But this wasn’t going to be a rush to the finish.
Fingers brushed over skin with the lightest of touches, lips left whispered trails, healing with tender kisses. Only when she’d settled back onto his lap, poised and ready to take him inside of her, did they pause. She watched the smile cross his face and tilted her head.
“Edon?”
“Four years ago, we were still fighting for our freedom. If you’d told me I’d be about to make love to you here, on this Cardassian built monstrosity, with you as the Bajoran liaison to Starfleet and me as the First Minister, I’d have thought you got hit on the head a bit too hard.”
Kira dissolved into laughter.
“I’ve felt the same way more than once over the past few years.”
Their eyes locked as the laughter died. Edon stroked her cheek and brought her lips back to his.
***
He’d had other lovers since he’d watched, helplessly, as the Cardassians grabbed Caldra and dragged her away from him. Since that night they’d stormed her tiny enclave and ripped her from his arms. Since they’d tied him still and made him watch every last thing before she was tossed into a skimmer and taken away.
He’d lost himself in the fight once his connection to his Imzadi was broken. And the fight meant sometimes losing himself in the physical touch of the nearest body. But since Caldra, no one had meant anything. Not beyond the simple touch of the flesh.
No one had meant anything until tonight.
Edon lay awake, his eyes out the viewport. Next to him, Nerys slept, the sheet half covering her naked body. On her back, he could see the faded scars from so many Cardassian beatings, on her neck the burn mark. He’d entered the race for First Minister because someone needed to stand up against Kai Winn. He’d stayed because of his Chief of Staff’s infant son. How beautiful to know a child would grow up on a free Bajor and he could have a hand in it. A child who would grow up and not carry the scars that all Bajorans who had been a part of the occupation carried.
A free Bajor.
Free to love as they chose. Free to honor each other as they chose.
When he was ten years old, he’d been sitting in a tent in a refugee camp outside of Reliketh, watching a Vedek marry his older brother and his betrothed. In the middle of the ceremony, the Cardassians had raided the camp, dragged his brother’s wife away, and shot the Vedek and his brother for participating in forbidden rituals. When his father had raced to his brother’s side, the Cardassians had beaten him and dragged him away to a labor camp.
In that moment, ten-year-old Edon had sworn never to love. Until he’d laid eyes on Caldra. Until he’d felt a whisper of a prayer of the prophets up his spine. Until she’d brushed his mind with her own and he’d understood that love was worth risking everything because without love, what they were fighting for didn’t matter.
But then she’d been taken. Violated and taken. And while he always wondered if somehow she’d survived, he also knew better than to trust that the Cardassians had actually listed her as dead. Three generations of Bajoran families had to accept that they would most likely never learn what had happened to their loved ones. He could only hope her death had been swift.
Again, he’d shut down. He’d understood that he could fight for other people to love but not himself. But what did it mean, now? Now that Bajor was free? Now that he’d discovered he could love again.
Over the last few months, since his election, Kira’s letters had been what had kept him grounded. She had opinions on everything from water reclamation to the corruption of factions in the southern peninsula and her opinions were something he could trust. She was no longer the mouthy kid, she was a grown woman who knew what she wanted and it was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.
Caldra, forgive him. But he knew he could fall in love with Nerys if he let himself just breathe.
But to accept that meant also accepting Nerys’ own pain. She’d lost Bareil twice, and he knew she’d never tracked down the child she’d left on Betazed. Once, he’d asked Caldra to see what she could find out but his Imzadi had only covered his hand with hers as she refused. “Nerys will always carry the wound of leaving her daughter,” she’d said in that lilting accent, “allow her the dignity of making the choice to find her or not.”
And as always, Caldra was right.
What would his beloved say now?
She’d tell him he was an idiot. She’d tell him that loving Nerys would be the best thing for him. That it was high time to move on and that he was disrespecting her memory by living in mourning.
Slowly, Edon lowered his lips to Nerys’ shoulder. She stirred, rolling over, and before he could overthink, Edon kissed her, deeply, and when she wrapped herself around him, he knew this was the right choice.
Author: vegawriters
Series: Tears of the Prophets
Fandom: Star Trek: DS9
Pairing: Kira/Shakaar (mentions of Kira/Bareil and Shakaar/Caldra Troi (OFC)
Rating: Mature
Timeframe: Shakkar - Crossfire
A/N: I’m not a fan of Kira and Odo as lovers (I think their friendship is fascinating). I respect what they ended up doing with that romantic storyline, but I’m far more interested in her other relationships - both canon and not.
Disclaimer: Sometimes it feels like DS9 owns my soul, but alas, I do not make a penny off of this. If there are any Trek peeps trolling around, reading fic when they aren’t supposed to be, I’m available for hire. ;)
Summary: But tonight wasn’t about long, lingering thoughts of dead soulmates.
Another night in the capital. Another night he couldn’t sleep. Another night of pacing the quarters donated to him by the military commanders so he could manage the election and also learn about the policies he was needing to grasp. The election was only two days away and if the polls were to believed, he’d already won. The notion was terrifying.
Edon missed his farm. He knew it was safe. He knew Furel and Lupaza were looking after the land and keeping up with the house. But safety wasn’t the issue here - he missed his farm. He missed the windows in the kitchen and the comfortable reading chair he’d built himself. He missed getting up with the sun to beg and barter with the land. In an instant, in a heartbeat, everything about his life changed. And even though he knew the Prophets had called him to this place, to this moment, Edon also wasn’t quite sure he was ready for what came next.
It was silly to question the next steps. He knew what he’d given up when he entered the race and stepped into the image he (and so many other) resistance leaders shouldered. It was easy to dream of walking away into the dustbin of history, but Bajor had only been free for a few years and as Nerys had reminded him - leaders then were leaders now. But, he enjoyed his quiet, enjoyed time with books he could now read and woodwork he could now focus on. Two months ago, Jeril finally had the capacity to open a tavern and four years after the occupation ended, their sleepy hamlet had a place to gather and argue politics and religion. Chora’s market was alive every day from sunup to dusk, and the days were full of conversation and strong coffee and merchants selling spring wine and hesperat. Away from the eyes of the capital, his small home was everything he and Caldra ever dreamed of.
But, Caldra wasn’t here. She hadn’t been for years. Deanna’s last message was still saved in his comm channel, her gentle She would be so proud of you … ringing in his ears. But he didn’t want her to be proud of him. He wanted her to be here with him, egging him on. Did anyone realize how similar Betazed and Bajoran women were?
The timepiece on the wall ticked over a new hour, ever closer to a meeting with the Second Minister. Edon finally moved back to the communications console and opened the file, staring at the flagged file. Kira’s last letter was there, giving advice on how to deal with the Vedek assembly in the rural areas and he could tell how much she’d learned from Bareil. He took the words to heart, but it was less about the politics and more about the connection.
Since the uprising, they’d talked every day. They sent letters at least once a week. What had started out as obligatory connections had settled back into what they’d always been before the world changed - friends.
But, was there something more?
He felt like a teenager with a crush. But that didn’t stop him from opening up a new commpage.
Kira -
Thank you for your advice on Vedek Nelis. Truth is, she scared me fifteen years ago and she scares me now. I will in fact send her a basket of colapples.
Just a few days away. I can’t believe this is the road the Prophets have laid out for me. And maybe you were right - maybe this was their plan decades ago when I first picked up a rifle against the Cardassians. Not that I’d ever have envisioned this then.
There’s always a bed in the house for you. Don’t be a stranger. You’re missed, here.
I miss you.
-Shakaar
***
Kira sighed as she closed the note. It was a quiet morning - just her and her meditation and a raktajino before the chaos of the day. Her eyes lingered on the corner where the duranya had sat for three months, where the flame had burned in memoriam of Antos. The death chant she’d cried herself so often to sleep with now only rolling around her mind, an ever present mantra.
Part of her still wanted to believe she’d been wrong and hadn’t buried him. That she would wake up and he’d be there, already meditating, her breakfast waiting.
Her eyes drifted to the altar, to the candles, to the bracelet that had sat since Bashir had handed it to her following Antos’ final surgery. He’d had it wrapped in his robes, waiting for the right moment. She’d have married him in an instant if he’d only asked. But now, she sat, still and alone. Lonely. Full of secrets and regrets that only prayer carried away and even then, the Prophets felt so distant. How could they have done this? What was their plan? She knew she had to trust, but she also hated the uncertainty.
Glancing back at the comm panel, Kira opened the note and hit reply, but her note wasn’t regarding anything Shakaar had written to her.
How do you deal with her loss, Edon?
But she deleted it.
How do you get up every day?
Again, delete.
Again. Again.
Finally, she closed the panel. After all, it was getting late and her shift was starting. She’d respond later, once she’d managed to get into the day and shake off her dreams. Anyway, by now he was deep into meetings and didn’t need her advice.
Did he?
***
Kira,
I know you got the formal invitation, but tell me you’re coming to this thing. I can’t bear the thought of smiling at the Kai without you there to cut her down.
-Shakaar
A smile crossed her face as she hit the reply -
Shakaar -
Of course I’ll be there. I’ll even get my dress uniform cleaned.
-Kira
***
The longer she lived on DS9, Kira could almost forget the Cardassian architecture around her. Almost. The station was always just a little too hot or a little too cold, and tonight was a night for a favorite sweater, a present from Jadzia their first year serving together. What do you mean you’ve never celebrated your birthday? Kira had been embarrassed to admit she barely knew when her birthday was and that she suspected what was in her records was not the actual date. It wasn’t like there were birth records kept in refugee camps. But the gesture from the Trill who was now one of her closest friends had been so sweet, so touching, and Kira had fallen into the soft-spun wool from a Bajoran store down in the capital. It had been worn so often now that the sleeves didn’t stay quite as well, and it drooped where she tended to tuck herself into the fabric. It was perfect.
Antos had always loved it on her, loved taking it off of her. She’d loved how he would slide his fingers up her sides, just light enough to keep from tickling her, but with enough pressure that her skin would pebble in anticipation. Once, she’d been called away early to deal with a station emergency and when she returned hours later, he’d been asleep with her sweater as a pillow.
But tonight wasn’t about long, lingering thoughts of dead soulmates. Kira had work to do. Forms to manage for both Starfleet and Bajor. She had accounts to reconcile and schedules to manage. So of course, rather than focusing, she found herself scrolling the Bajoran news feeds and making note of the chatter regarding the lack of services in the Western corner of Singha and the lack of trust in Shakaar from the more conservative political elite. Kira rolled her eyes. He’d fought for their freedom to return Bajor to a lifestyle that had been part of what had left them open to occupation. Who were they to be trusted?
Her comm chimed. She glanced at the message icon and tapped it. Anything to avoid paperwork.
You don’t have to wear your uniform - the note read.
She stared at the words, unsure of how to respond. What? She was supposed to go down to Garak’s and --
I’m sorry. The words came in the message almost before the chime. I know you do. I don’t know what I’m thinking.
Words frustrated her, so she opened the comm channel. A few seconds later, an exhausted looking Shakaar stared at her from the kitchen of his farmhouse. She was glad he’d been able to escape back there.
“Are you okay?” She asked, suddenly struck by just how blue his eyes were. They’d always done that when he was nervous.
“Nerys …”
“Hey,” she shook her head, “hey, listen to me. You’ve got this.”
“I’m just a resistance fighter who wanted to be a farmer.”
She met his eyes across the distance to Bajor. “You’re a hero. And a leader. Every single one of us who made it through would follow you into the Valley of the Wraiths, Edon. I believe in you. We all do.” Silence, and she saw just how scared he really was and somehow, she knew what he needed to hear. “Caldra would be proud of you, Edon.” Tears filled his eyes. “She loved you. She loved you so much. And I’m so sorry she isn’t here now to …” she sighed, knowing full well that if Edon was married to an off-worlder, his path to leadership wouldn’t have been so easy. But that didn’t matter because Caldra had been dragged from the camp in front of all of them, screaming through the phaser fire, until one of the Cardassians had beaten her senseless in front of all of them. In front of Edon, who they held in place and forced him to watch, helpless.
Every single one of them had prayed she’d died before they threw her on that skimmer and drove away.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I …” he let out a breath. “Thank you.”
Somehow saying that his beloved was walking with the Prophets felt hollow. Especially since Caldra wasn’t Bajoran. Then again, she was ready to deck the next person who told her Bareil was with their gods. So she offered him half a smile and he returned it, understanding in his eyes.
“He was going to ask me to marry him,” Kira said, surprising both of them with the admission. “I was going to say yes.”
“I’m so sorry, Nerys.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Silence. So much silence in Bajoran conversations. So many dead to remember.
“I should let you sleep,” he murmured.
“It’s okay,” Kira smiled. “I was scrolling the newsfeeds instead of doing paperwork for the Council of Ministers.”
He laughed. “Anything interesting?”
She laughed. “Apparently there’s a new book coming out about a Cardassian who falls in love with a Bajoran and learns the errors of his ways.”
Both of them broke out laughing. “Can’t I put some kind of ban on that drivel?” Shakaar asked.
“Not if we want a free press. But you should put more capital into elevating the voices of Bajorans who don’t have access to print in the same ways. Especially if you want to keep pursuing Federation membership.”
“Damnit,” he muttered. “But you’re right.”
Silence again, but an easier one.
“I should let you go …” he said again.
“You don’t have to. We can just leave the comm link open. I can work. You can work …”
Shakaar smiled and nodded. “That sounds perfect.”
***
No one needed to know that her skin still tingled, just slightly where his fingers had pressed into her hip while they were dancing. No one needed to know that when they’d slipped away for just a few moments of air that he’d touched the small of her back and looked into his eyes and she’d seen herself not as the dutiful soldier but an equal. An equal of the leader of her planet.
“Who would have guessed,” he said as she stepped closer to him in the cool night, “that when we were just struggling to find food that we’d end up here.”
“You did,” she’d told him. “Whether you realize it or not. It’s why we were so blindingly devoted, Edon. You gave us hope.”
If he’d kissed her then, she’d have let him take her to his bed. Instead, his staff had found him and the moment was broken and by the end of the night she was back in the guest quarters in the Military section of the capital, catching a few hours of sleep before the transport back to Bajor in the morning.
No one had needed to know that somewhere between letters and staying up all night working with the comm link open between them, that things were starting to change. No one needed to know, because she wasn’t ready to know.
Not yet.
***
He wasn’t sure why he’d confided in Odo. He was uneasy around the other man, cautious because of his history on the station. He knew Odo’s record, knew he’d earned trust with both Bajorans and Cardassians by being fair. But the harsh reality was that laws he’d been enforcing were Cardassian in origin, which meant even if he was fair, he was still collaborating with the enemy. Nerys trusted him though, and that mattered. So, he’d unloaded his dreams and wishes about their mutual friend like he’d been gossiping about some girl in a neighboring cell. But the truth was, it just felt good to let it out. To tell someone. To admit into the open that he was, in fact, falling in love.
If Odo seemed uncomfortable, Edon wasn’t sure what to do with that. To be fair, Odo always seemed uncomfortable. After all, being the only one of his kind amid a world where he had no connection to anyone else would make anyone uncomfortable, really. So, he didn’t push the moment when Odo got up to leave, or worry about anything other than taking a breath once he was alone.
Did he have to be alone?
It was late, and he knew it would mess up station security if he went for a walk, but he wanted to see Nerys. Wanted to talk to her. He wanted to watch her eyes light up and see the stars reflected in them. He wanted to touch her hand again, feel her breath as he leaned in for a kiss.
For the first time since Caldra, he felt capable of opening his heart again, of finding comfort with someone.
Imzadi doesn’t mean you can’t love other people, she’d said with a smile one night, projecting gently into his mind. It means that you understand how vast the capability for love is.
She’d proven that over and over, showing love was more than flowers and gentle words. Love was putting her body between Bajoran children and Cardassians, was picking up a phaser, was leveraging her family’s power as best she could. Staring out at the starfield, Edon knew she was right. That it was time to move on. Love, after all, was not clinging to a dream that the past would be fixed. It was daring to move into the future.
***
Kira wanted it to be awkward. She wanted to bumble over herself while the candles burned low, while the wine bottle emptied. She wanted to tell herself - and him - that this was a passing fancy, a crush, a chance for her heart to heal. For his. But the truth was, they knew each other better than simply two soldiers who had fought in the trenches and watched those they loved die for their freedom. She knew, better than anyone, why he carried that empty look in his eye and why, when he reached for her, when his fingers trailed along her cheek, he paused and pulled back.
“Edon?” Kira asked, catching his hand in hers. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”
Silence descended as his gaze turned back to the firelight. “She’s been gone ten years, Nerys, and I still feel like maybe I’m being unfaithful. That gap in my heart, it’s never gone away. My mind still reaches for her.”
“Would Caldra want you to be lonely, Edon?”
He closed his eyes and brought her hand to his lips, kissing each finger softly. “Would Antos?”
“You would think,” she said after a long moment, “that losing people they way we have over the years would make this part easier.”
“She was my Imzadi,” he said, his accent changing ever so slightly with the word. “We touched each other’s souls.”
“He was my first love,” Kira said quietly, “and the father of a daughter he only learned about when he was unconscious on a bio bed, ready to die.”
“Why couldn’t you ever tell him?”
“What?” Kira chuckled, the tears rising in her eyes. “Hey, Antos, remember how we had that whirlwind romance as teenagers and then we didn’t see each other again even though we somehow always sent letters and somehow in that time I never bothered to tell you that I left the baby on Betazed because I wasn’t sure we’d live to see tomorrow?”
“You know he’d have supported you. Supported the decision. He lived through the occupation too.”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“This turned dark,” Edon said, a half chuckle in his voice. “Do you think that maybe we are doing this to ourselves because we’re scared?”
“Or because we’re worried about what the Prophets think is right?”
“I think,” Edon said, turning his gaze back to her, “that the Prophets wouldn’t want us to torture ourselves.”
She laughed at the old joke, the justification for the nights of debauchery they’d all allowed themselves while blowing off steam. But in this moment, in the candlelight, she knew he was right. And this time, when he touched her cheek, he didn’t pull away. Instead, the kiss was long and sweet and Kira found herself sliding into his lap and straddling him. His mouth worked her neck, her earlobe, all the while she could feel him hardening under her.
“Edon …” she murmured, tired of waiting, tired of not being touched. He helped push her duster to the floor, moved his hands over her, and when his fingertips grazed her nipples she groaned and he stopped.
“You aren’t the kid I watched grow up,” he said as his hands moved up under her shirt and she helped pull it from her body. “For which I am very glad.”
Kira laughed, knowing how it could have been. After all, teenage Nerys had crushed on her mentor. But adult Nerys wanted to know what Edon would feel like nestled between her legs while his mouth worked her neck. When his lips closed over her nipple, she gasped, tightening her knees around him, grinding her hips down to meet him as he arched just slightly up. But this wasn’t going to be a rush to the finish.
Fingers brushed over skin with the lightest of touches, lips left whispered trails, healing with tender kisses. Only when she’d settled back onto his lap, poised and ready to take him inside of her, did they pause. She watched the smile cross his face and tilted her head.
“Edon?”
“Four years ago, we were still fighting for our freedom. If you’d told me I’d be about to make love to you here, on this Cardassian built monstrosity, with you as the Bajoran liaison to Starfleet and me as the First Minister, I’d have thought you got hit on the head a bit too hard.”
Kira dissolved into laughter.
“I’ve felt the same way more than once over the past few years.”
Their eyes locked as the laughter died. Edon stroked her cheek and brought her lips back to his.
***
He’d had other lovers since he’d watched, helplessly, as the Cardassians grabbed Caldra and dragged her away from him. Since that night they’d stormed her tiny enclave and ripped her from his arms. Since they’d tied him still and made him watch every last thing before she was tossed into a skimmer and taken away.
He’d lost himself in the fight once his connection to his Imzadi was broken. And the fight meant sometimes losing himself in the physical touch of the nearest body. But since Caldra, no one had meant anything. Not beyond the simple touch of the flesh.
No one had meant anything until tonight.
Edon lay awake, his eyes out the viewport. Next to him, Nerys slept, the sheet half covering her naked body. On her back, he could see the faded scars from so many Cardassian beatings, on her neck the burn mark. He’d entered the race for First Minister because someone needed to stand up against Kai Winn. He’d stayed because of his Chief of Staff’s infant son. How beautiful to know a child would grow up on a free Bajor and he could have a hand in it. A child who would grow up and not carry the scars that all Bajorans who had been a part of the occupation carried.
A free Bajor.
Free to love as they chose. Free to honor each other as they chose.
When he was ten years old, he’d been sitting in a tent in a refugee camp outside of Reliketh, watching a Vedek marry his older brother and his betrothed. In the middle of the ceremony, the Cardassians had raided the camp, dragged his brother’s wife away, and shot the Vedek and his brother for participating in forbidden rituals. When his father had raced to his brother’s side, the Cardassians had beaten him and dragged him away to a labor camp.
In that moment, ten-year-old Edon had sworn never to love. Until he’d laid eyes on Caldra. Until he’d felt a whisper of a prayer of the prophets up his spine. Until she’d brushed his mind with her own and he’d understood that love was worth risking everything because without love, what they were fighting for didn’t matter.
But then she’d been taken. Violated and taken. And while he always wondered if somehow she’d survived, he also knew better than to trust that the Cardassians had actually listed her as dead. Three generations of Bajoran families had to accept that they would most likely never learn what had happened to their loved ones. He could only hope her death had been swift.
Again, he’d shut down. He’d understood that he could fight for other people to love but not himself. But what did it mean, now? Now that Bajor was free? Now that he’d discovered he could love again.
Over the last few months, since his election, Kira’s letters had been what had kept him grounded. She had opinions on everything from water reclamation to the corruption of factions in the southern peninsula and her opinions were something he could trust. She was no longer the mouthy kid, she was a grown woman who knew what she wanted and it was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.
Caldra, forgive him. But he knew he could fall in love with Nerys if he let himself just breathe.
But to accept that meant also accepting Nerys’ own pain. She’d lost Bareil twice, and he knew she’d never tracked down the child she’d left on Betazed. Once, he’d asked Caldra to see what she could find out but his Imzadi had only covered his hand with hers as she refused. “Nerys will always carry the wound of leaving her daughter,” she’d said in that lilting accent, “allow her the dignity of making the choice to find her or not.”
And as always, Caldra was right.
What would his beloved say now?
She’d tell him he was an idiot. She’d tell him that loving Nerys would be the best thing for him. That it was high time to move on and that he was disrespecting her memory by living in mourning.
Slowly, Edon lowered his lips to Nerys’ shoulder. She stirred, rolling over, and before he could overthink, Edon kissed her, deeply, and when she wrapped herself around him, he knew this was the right choice.