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Date: Tue, 15 Jun 2004 23:18:52 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW DS9: Waltz II (or, Meanwhile, Back on the Station ...) 1/2 (O/K) [NC-17]
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Title: Waltz II (or, Meanwhile, Back on the Station ...)
Author: C. Zdroj
Email: czb at comcast dot net
Website: http://odosgirl.tripod.com/
Series: DS9
Part: 1/2
Rating: NC-17
Codes: O/K, O/f implied
Archiving: Bajorarama, ASC*. Others please ask.

SUMMARY: While Sisko is waltzing with Dukat, two of his crew members are 
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the DS9 universe and characters. No copyright
infringement is intended here.

~~~~

Waltz II (or, Meanwhile, Back on the Station ...)
by C. Zdroj

Chronology Note: This story was inspired by a scene from the ST:DS9
episode "Waltz," during which it is set.

~~~

Odo stood behind Kira, watching her shoulders, watching her back tighten
with tension as she kept her eyes on the four Starfleet officers leaving
Ops and heading for the Defiant.

She stood impassive, for the moment the commanding officer of the
station, adopting her most military aspect as Dax, Worf, and Bashir all
prepared to go in search of the missing Captain Sisko.

Bajor's liaison would stay behind while others went to seek the
Emissary.  Odo felt certain that she was asking herself the same
question that was in his mind. The question that both of them were
afraid of asking aloud. Could Sisko be dead? And if he were, then what
was to become of Bajor?

Odo himself was no believer in any religion. He was rigorous about his
skepticism. Nothing in his life had ever allowed him to feel the
unconditional faith that Kira seemed to possess. Yet he knew something
of the loyalty she had to Sisko--the man who had persuaded her, against
all the walls that she had erected within herself against such a
possibility--that joining the Federation was the right course for Bajor.
Even more improbably, Sisko had convinced Odo too of this initially
strange notion.

The changeling was motionless in the silence that suddenly swelled
within the nerve center of the station, the Cardassian-built monstrosity
that both he and Kira now called home. There was something surreal about
the moment--about the two of them being left to themselves to attend to
station business.

It was a miracle that they were able to work together at all, after
everything that had happened during the recent Dominion occupation of
DS9--but here they were now, standing together, almost as if none of
that had happened. It was, for one brief moment, as it had been after
the departure of the Cardassians and before the arrival of the
Federation--with the two of them in silent solidarity, looking over the
wreckage of the station and into a future that seemed grim at best.

Kira, like Odo himself, was made of emotional steel, and he admired
that, as he always had. He respected it. And yet, for the entire time he
remained there, watching and admiring her, he also knew how terribly
fragile she was behind the hard exterior, for he had seen her at
breaking point before, many times. He ached to lay his hands on her
shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

But he didn't. His own posture remained as hers, his hands locked behind
him. His shame eating at him.

She turned, and Odo looked up. There was a moment, half a heartbeat,
perhaps, when they startled each other with the vulnerability betrayed
on both their faces. But military decorum intervened to save them from
embarrassment. "We'd better update the Bajoran government and Starfleet
on all of this," Kira said briskly.  Odo's face was an impassive mask as
he nodded. Undoubtedly there would be vedeks and ministers to reassure,
admirals to placate, and countless other tasks of both protocol and
necessity to be done in the wake of Sisko's disappearance--as well as
the routine duties of running the station itself. It suddenly occurred
to Odo that someone would have to inform nineteen-year-old Jake Sisko of
what had happened. Kira would undoubtedly take that unpleasant duty on
her own shoulders. She nodded back to Odo, no hint of emotion on her
face--and then headed back into Sisko's office to deal with whatever
needed to be dealt with there.

No one observing this brief, businesslike interchange between DS9's
security chief and first officer would ever have guessed that Odo and
Kira had managed, not two months ago, to spend more than ten hours
hidden in Jadzia Dax's closet, just talking. Odo wondered when--and
if--they would ever be able to talk that way again.

~~~

Kira, after countless hours of subspace conversations with generals and
spies and intelligence officers and security personnel and who knew
what-all from Starfleet, entered the Bajoran temple at some
Prophets-forsaken hour, feeling tired and utterly deserted. There had
been no word from the Defiant. She approached the altar and lit a prayer
candle, and then allowed herself to sink into one of the carved wooden
benches near the front, pushing her hand tiredly through her short, dark
red hair.

"That damned Worf," she muttered softly. "Couldn't find a shree-vrat in
a nest of tarka's eggs." She laughed softly, the laughter of one who
hasn't had any sleep in over forty hours. It was unfair, she knew, to be
picking on the Klingon. He was too easy a target, with his constant
bluster and uncertain machismo. Besides, Dax and Julian and Miles were
with him, and she knew that all of them would have gone to the ends of
the earth for Sisko. She was mildly surprised, in the midst of muffling
her own laughter with her hand, to find herself wiping tears from her
face. Within seconds her short, jerking sobs could no longer be
contained, and threatened to become embarrassingly loud, amplified as
they were by the acoustic design of the temple.

As silently and gracefully as a whisper, she felt her hands being pulled
gently away from her face. Still incoherent, she reached out and let her
fingers grasp handfuls of the brown Bajoran uniform tunic that
materialized beside her, clothing a body that was warm and solid. Her
arms slipped around a broad upper torso and she felt herself wrapped in
a pair of strong arms. "It's all right, Nerys ..." The low, familiar
rough-soft voice had a gentleness in it that stirred a memory of herself
in the station infirmary, lying on her side, with a protective shadow
standing over her. Odo. She drew back, looked into deepset blue eyes in
a minimalist, angular face. Somehow those plain features spoke volumes
to her. There were oceanic depths there of sadness, understanding ...
and regret.

"Odo ..." she said--and the sound of her voice made them both draw back
for a moment. She in surprise, he with something like embarrassment.
"When did you ...?"

"I've been here for an hour or two. I was ... one of the candles on the
altar," Odo admitted with some obvious chagrin. "Though I never have
managed to replicate a flame," he added, his faint, almost-smile
signaling his attempt to make a joke.

Kira smiled at him and managed to recover some of her self-control.
"That could be dangerous, you know--suppose I'd tried to light you?"

"That would have been interesting," he responded. "Believe it or not, no
one's ever tried that--not in all the times I've been here."

"You've been here before?" Kira blurted. Then, feeling that somehow the
utterance had sounded rude, she amended, "I mean--I didn't realize that
you came here regularly."

"Just since the Occupation ended," Odo admitted. She felt him wince as a
shadow of self-doubt flickered briefly over his carefully crafted
features. "I mean--I've found that I like the quiet here. It's very ...
conducive to thinking. Very restful. That's a good environment for
shapeshifting."

"I never thought of that. You make it sound like meditation."

"I suppose it is, in a way. It requires a certain ... inner silence to
become an inanimate object. It's one of the things I--" He stopped and
then went on, his eyes averted from her. "One of the things that I
learned from my people."

"I see," she said.

There was a silence that stretched.

"I ... didn't mean to intrude on your privacy," said Odo. "I didn't come
here to--to watch you. It was so late I didn't think anyone would--"

"It's all right."

"I didn't mean to interfere," he went on, still looking away from her.
"But I heard you crying and ... I just couldn't sit there and do nothing."

In the dimness of the temple, Kira peered curiously at his averted
features. She had a fuzzy remembrance of the shy young security officer
who had once come to her table in the replimat and awkwardly informed
her that a "pretty girl like you shouldn't be eating alone." The
awareness of his current discomfort filtered into her own fatigued
senses slowly. After a moment, she reached out and took his hand,
letting her fingers interlace with his and squeezing warmly. "I'm glad
you're here. I feel like I've been trapped inside my own worries all day."

"Almost two days by my count."

His eyes met hers at last and they both almost managed to smile. For a
few minutes they just sat in the silence, holding hands. Kira was
astonished at how comfortable a silence it was. It seemed to her as
though they were both, in their distinct ways, silently praying for
Sisko's safe return. Kira knew that Odo was not religious, not according
to any of the usual definitions, but that didn't seem to matter at the
moment. She found herself recalling all the times that she had ever sat
with him in his office, saying nothing, and feeling safe in that
silence. "You know what I've always liked about you?" she said at last.

"What?"

"You always know exactly when to be quiet."

"I've had lots of practice."

She drew a breath in the stillness. "Do you remember the very first
words you said to Sisko?"

"'Who the hell are you?'" Odo quoted back, with perfect "cranky
Constable" inflection. Despite her worry, Kira almost laughed outright.

Then she shook her head. "When I think about some of the shouting
matches I had with the captain ... of course--who knew then that he was
the Emissary? I didn't want to believe it at first."

"We don't know that he's dead, Nerys," said Odo, quietly, but with
iron-firmness. She squeezed his hands again in gratitude, welcoming his
bluntness in saying aloud the word that she was afraid even to think.
She felt a surge of affection then, warm and painfully unexpected. He
always knew exactly what she needed to hear. So like Odo, to show
affection by being brutally honest. It was a mark of respect. It showed
how much he valued her.

She reached up, slowly, almost fearfully, to touch the side of his face,
hesitating briefly just before her fingers came into contact with his
skin. Some part of her was fearful, even now, of this "inappropriate"
intimacy, this breach of her cowardice and his fierce privacy. She
traced the contours of his face carefully, as if seeing him for the
first time. He held perfectly still, allowing her hand to move over his
carefully molded features, her fingertips tracing the bridge of his
nose, his cheeks, his lips, the ridges of his brow. He closed his eyes,
and his expression was almost one of pain, as though he were enduring
her exploration.

When her fingers brushed along the edge of his lower lip, he whispered
as though he could barely force out his rasp of a voice, "Nerys ... stop
... please."

She withdrew her hand and then, determined to continue the experiment,
leaned forward and kissed the place where her fingers had last rested,
kissed his mouth with careful, cautious precision. In the seconds that
followed, she drew a sharp breath as she felt his tongue sliding past
her lips and then going liquid inside her mouth. An uncontrolled shiver
raced through her body, for it was the most purely erotic sensation
she'd ever felt. She was fully conscious of the fact that he was tasting
her--exploring her like any of the shapes that he imitated--and in some
strange way, she was exploring him too, feeling what it was like to be
fluid. An unexpected flare of heat surged between her thighs, and for a
moment, she thought her entire body was going to melt. She pulled back,
gasping for breath when he
finally withdrew from her. She stared at him for a moment, into his
wide, blue, terrified eyes--and he stared back.

He broke the eye-contact, looking down. "I'm sorry, Nerys."

Her own emotions were flailing around her skull, formless, a sea of
unnamed desires and fears and doubts. His apologetic tone vexed her
suddenly. She had the vague sense that they were both standing on the
edge of something, wavering. *No more,* she decided, and seized his hand
with sudden fierceness.

"Come on," she said, "We need to be someplace more private."

Odo looked completely baffled, but he rose and followed her out of the
temple, out onto the Promenade. She held his hand determinedly as she
strode along, dragging the constable after her, fixedly ignoring the
stare of Quark, who was alone at his bar, counting out the day's take as
they passed by his door. Out of the corner of her eye, Kira could have
sworn that the crafty little troll had grinned one of his
snaggle-toothed grins. She even fancied that he looked pleased about
something. But she wasn't stopping to check. Stopping was deadly. She
had no specific idea of just what she had in mind as she hauled Odo onto
the turbo-lift and stood trembling, clutching his hand, as the doors
hissed closed, sealing them inside. The silence was suddenly terrible
and deafening.

"Nerys--" Odo attempted.

"You have a bed, right?" she asked, almost clinically, staring at the
turbolift doors.

"I--yes, but ...."

"That's good." Then, abruptly to the computer, she snapped, "Habitat ring."

By the time Odo had got out the words, "Nerys, I don't think--" Kira was
pulling him through the open doors of the turbolift and down the curving
hallway to his quarters. She didn't stop moving, didn't allow herself to
think, until the two of them stood outside his door. Then she halted,
suppressing the million and one nameless fears that were trying to crowd
her mind. She clamped down harder still on her own internal chaos and
contemplated the smooth metal surface of Odo's door. *Another choice,*
said the one crystal clear thought in her brain. She stared down at
their joined hands, seeming to realize for the first time that she was
still holding onto her friend. Slowly, she released his fingers. Odo
withdrew his touch with a strangely tender grace, and she resisted the
urge to reach out and clutch him once more. She just stood there. They
both stood in silence for a moment, as if wondering exactly how they'd
come to be there. Then Kira said. "Your move, Constable."

Silently, he keyed in the lock code to his door with spare, graceful
movements of his fingers. He stood aside and gestured for her to enter.
She did.

"Lights," said Odo's soft, gruff, voice behind her, and the lights came
up, creating a strange, soft twilight effect in the room, revealing the
distorted shadows of Odo's collection of sculptures and other strange
objects. *A changeling's garden,* thought Kira, and almost laughed at
herself aloud--at her own ridiculous burst of poetic sentiment. She
remembered the first time she'd seen this place--how she'd gawked at
everything like some rude tourist. "It's beautiful," was all she said now.

"Nerys--" Odo laid firm hands on her shoulders and turned her around to
face him. "What is this about? I need to know."

He was so solemn-looking, especially now, especially in the half-light
that shadowed his eyes and made him look even more forlorn than usual.
Unexpectedly, he reached out and cupped the side of her face in his
hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. She closed her eyes, feeling the
tears welling into them. "I don't know," she confessed, for she couldn't
lie to him. She'd never been able to lie to him. *Except the one time.*
"Damn it, I don't know." She was suddenly furious at herself for
charging this far to the cliff's edge only to hesitate yet again. "I
just don't want to think tonight. I want to be someplace other than
here. I don't want to be responsible for Bajor if --" She made herself
say it: "--if the Emissary is dead."

"I see," he said. She felt the color rise to her cheeks. The stupidity
of her actions hit her like a slap in the face. What had she just asked
of him? *Fuck me so that I'll feel better about the state of the
universe? Let me borrow your body for a while? Let me take advantage of
you?* She wanted to sink into the ground in that moment. But the
hateful, Cardassian-built architecture would have none of that. The
floor under her feet stayed solid, and she became aware of the fact the
Odo had leaned down to kiss her. She felt his lips brushing her cheek, a
reverent, careful kiss. *Prophets, I have to do this now, before I lose
my nerve.* She let her arms slide around his neck. Her lips sought his
for the second time, kissing him with slow, deliberate sensuality. No
thought, no doubt, just pure sensation. Exactly what she needed. She
breathed against the skin of his neck and he shivered. She felt it
through her whole body and pressed herself closer against him, felt an
unexpected softening of his contours.

"Odo," she said softly, bringing one hand up to run her fingers through
his fair, silken hair, pressing her lips against his temple. "Odo ..."
she breathed his name again, drawing out the syllables. "Don't leave me
tonight ... please." She was aware of arching her neck against the
warmth of his kisses. He lifted her with astonishing ease and carried
her to the other room, gently laying her on the bed. He drew back from
kissing her, and she felt his fingers sketch lightly through her hair, a
cautious touch against the side of her face.

"You're certain?" he said.

Having no use for words, and less idea what words might be appropriate,
she reached for him, slipped her hands behind his head and pulled him
into another firm kiss, shuddering as he liquefied inside her mouth
again. She ran her hands down his back, and as she did so, she felt the
fabric of his uniform melt into ripples of warm liquid, reform into skin
that was softer than velvet, liquid after its own fashion, in its
subtle, flowing curves. She brought her hands up over the front of his
chest, shocked and delighted to feel the softness of his belly, the
precise u-shaped outline of his lower ribcage, and the perfect,
well-formed nipples that hardened under her touch. Odo gently drew her
wrists away and pinned them down against the mattress, beginning to kiss
her neck.

And then, as suddenly as he'd begun--he stopped, releasing her and
sitting up on the bed.

"Odo?" Kira opened her eyes.

His face, above hers, was shadowed so that she couldn't read it.

"Odo, what's wrong?" she asked.

He paused. When he spoke, his voice was filled with shame and revulsion.
"The female changeling," he whispered. "I--she and I, we ... it was
here. On this bed." The last three words were spoken with emphatic
precision, with sorrow, but mostly with anger. He fell silent.


~to be continued in part two~

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