Archive of Our Own

Odo collapsed into an empty chair, dimly aware that the Defiant hadn’t hit any serious turbulence in a while now. An odd ringing in his head drowned out  the noise of the ship until it faded into a murmur Around him, crew members hurried between stations and barked orders and quips at one another, but all of their chatter seemed so, so far away. Only Garak, who struggled without success to sit comfortably in the seat next to him, kept still – the claws digging into the arms of his chair betraying his unease. A small part of him gawked at how quickly normalcy had returned, but he pushed down the feeling. Crying for comfort had never gotten him far and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

“Are you alright?” Garak asked quietly – not for the first time that flight. Frankly, Odo wasn’t sure exactly why he needed to insist upon sitting so close to him. For a torturer, he noted bitterly, Garak sure was clingy. 

“Fine,” Odo lied, so worn out that he couldn’t be bothered to regret lying. It wasn’t like they didn’t both know the truth anyway. Everything ached, and everything that didn’t ache burned. So little of his energy was left from the torture and imprisonment that masking all of it on top of holding his malshaped form felt impossible. Even if he’d felt like asking for help, there wasn’t anything Doctor Bashir could do for him besides giving him the same laundry list of rest and relaxation that he knew Odo didn’t have time for. Besides, he wasn’t exactly eager to endure another round of being someone else’s lab specimen. So as far as the doctor was concerned, he’d gone on a slightly stressful trip through space and come back unharmed. What Bashir didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. All Odo wanted was for no one to look at him or bother him, at least for a little while. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to afford him that.

The rest of the flight passed in relative silence, interrupted only by the sounds of the ship and its crew bustling around him. All the time, he could feel himself getting worse. He strained against the growing tidal wave of exhaustion, trying everything he could think of to keep himself from looking as awful as he felt. Maintaining the humanoid facade felt like agony. His fists clenched, his fingers sticking together and melting into one ugly conglomorate. A drop of molten skin crashing against his shaking hand shook him out of his trance. 

What was he doing? He couldn’t let anyone see him like this.

Odo moved to stand, but faltered on his way up, the world around him spinning worse than ever. Commander Eddington, unfortunately, noticed and looked at him pityingly, setting him to boil from the burst of indignant rage that exploded in him. Garak hesitantly reached out a hand and Odo flinched away before he could stop himself. Instantly, he regretted it. More than anything else, he just wanted all of this to be over. It was over. Jerking away like that was just a quick mistake because his stupid mind wasn’t doing what it was told yet. Of course Garak wouldn’t see it that way. He kept sending horribly guilty looks the Constable’s way that made Odo feel sicker than he already did.

Hauling himself to his feet, Odo gripped the back of the chair with an iron fist until his head stopped spinning. He considered that he should probably tell someone he was leaving in case they needed something, but shook the thought from his head as he decided that he simply didn’t care and turned away from the bridge. He was hardly in any condition to be having conversations and the rest of the senior staff seemed to be handling themselves perfectly well. Stumbling down the hallway, he forced himself to stay as together as he possibly could. An annoying tapping noise started up. He ignored it and forced himself to keep dragging his body to the quarterdeck. He slammed his hand onto the panel of the nearest room he was pretty sure was unoccupied, fumbling with the controls until the door opened and he could crumple onto the bed.

The first thought that struck him was that he didn’t have a bucket. Perfect. It wasn’t like he needed it. He hadn’t even used one since he’d gotten his own quarters back on DS9 – well, except for on Tain’s ship, but he wiped the memory from his mind. It was just that there were people here now who could see him and he refused to risk that. All he needed was a few hours by himself, but even that seemed like it was too much to ask lately. He tore his eyes to the door, only to find it open and Garak standing in the doorway, his hands folded behind his back. Odo scowled, mulling over why it was that he couldn’t seem to get a moment to himself lately.

“Garak.” Odo bit out, pushing as much inhospitality into the word as he could. 

“Constable,” Garak said slowly. Uncertainly. Like the nickname didn’t fit quite right in his mouth after everything. Thick silence surrounded them. Cautiously, he crossed the room and sat on the bed next to Odo, a bucket in his hands. Odo raised a brow.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

“I find the more relevant question to be whether there is something I can do for you? I thought you might appreciate some rest.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Odo huffed. He didn’t miss the way that Garak’s head dipped. A sick, sadistic part of it enjoyed it. More of him was already tired of this. “You can leave that here. Thanks.”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the Cardassian nodded and placed the bucket in Odo’s lap before standing and moving away from the Starfleet-issue cot. Odo squinted at the bucket, examining it closely as he closed his messy fingers around it. Something about it didn’t look right. It seemed . . . blurry.

His comm badge chirped to life, its usual beeps sounding as loud as screams to Odo’s fried senses. He winced, hissing under his breath as another bout of nausea merged everything in his world. Against his better judgement, he tapped the badge in response. Whatever he had to put up with, it was better than anyone else seeing him like this. Through the haze of swirling lights that burned and slur of noises, he gathered what sounded like bits and pieces of an order.

“-do . . . help up . . . bridge?” Came the fragments of communication from one of the men on the bridge. The commander, he assumed. It sounded so far away and yet hurt as much as if an air raid siren were blaring an inch away from where he was sitting.

“Odo?” Garak asked. He was closer than he’d been before. When had he come back? Odo thought he’d left.

“Odo?” Another voice asked.

That was Sisko. Odo jerked his head up. He hadn’t realized he had dropped it to begin with. Ignoring Garak’s eyes boring into him, he strained to listen to more.

“. . . do yo- . . . secur- . . , Odo?”

He’s asking about me. 

“Here, Commander,” He croaked, internally groaning at how miserable he sounded. He paused. How was he supposed to continue when he wasn’t even sure what he’d been asked? “I can’t –”

Nothing. The words weren’t coming. Odo scowled at the floor, the onslaught of need to regenerate hitting him like a freighter.

Garak was looking at him with an emotion he knew he knew but couldn’t find the word for through the growing fog. He fought back the growl rising in his throat. All of this – all the thousand and one feelings of everyone around him, the rules, the respectability – cost more to deal with than he was willing to pay. Sisko’s voice was back again. He must have been asking him something, but the words were too dim to make out through the blanket of exhaustion that only grew heavier by the second. Droplets of his own liquified body slid down his face. He knew he should be horrified as he watched bits and pieces of himself splash into the bucket in his hands, but it all felt so far away. Black clouded his vision. Distantly, he heard his name. His strength shattered and his body collapsed into an unruly goo that he barely managed to direct into the bucket. Dimly, he remembered Garak was still there to see it, and dimmer still, he couldn’t find himself bothered enough to care. 

It wasn’t often that Odo genuinely lost consciousness. For the solids, it came as a nightly experience, but returning to his natural state never required it. Not unless he chose to, anyway, and he couldn’t imagine why he would outside of special occasions.

It was, therefore, surprising to find himself stirring awake without any memory of the last few hours. Actually, it wasn’t just those six or so hours – he couldn’t remember any part of how he ended up here. The edges of his liquid form curled against the cold exterior of a metal bucket – not his old one, but close enough. Before he’d gotten his own quarters and taken to spreading out on the floor, it’d brought him security settling down into a tight container. Now the walls of the bucket felt tight and limiting. Distantly, he could make out muffled voices somewhere far off. Glaring overhead lights blinded his senses. 

Pulling himself up out of the bucket and into his usual humanoid form, he stood up straight, his feet settling strangely on the glacial floor. He pushed his shoulders back into place, straightening his back more. He wasn’t falling apart anymore, so there was that. When he looked up, he found himself staring straight out at the bustling bridge through a wall of glass. Kira and Dax chatted idly by the control interface while Chief O’Brien fiddled with the main computer. 

It was such an ordinary scene that it almost offset the feeling of being stared at. Odo turned around to find Commander Sisko sitting at his desk, his eyes brimming with warmth and a soft smile on his face. He set his baseball back down on the table where it normally rested.

“Odo,” He greeted, his voice smiling. Relief pooled in Odo’s chest, evaporating a weight that had been there for days. It had been less than a full week and yet it felt like it’d been an eternity since he’d seen a friendly face he trusted. “It’s good to see you.”

“Commander,” Odo acknowledged, nodding. He crossed his arms behind his back. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Fine. Though I confess I don’t remember how I got here.”

“Major Kira went to check on you after you stopped responding to your combadge. She brought you aboard, I suppose in some container Mr. Garak borrowed from the Defiant .”

Odo bristled, mortification seeping through him. Of course the entire bridge crew saw him in his natural form. Things just kept getting better and better. 

Sisko carried on. Whether he didn’t know what Odo was thinking or didn’t care, Odo could never tell. “He was insistent that you be seen to as soon as possible. The station’s been working around the clock on repairs in light of the new Dominion threat and Doctor Bashir couldn’t begin to think of how to treat you other than to let you rest. 

“Unfortunately, sickbay was damaged while we were in the Gamma Quadrant in some kind of irregular conduit overload and a work crew was busy repairing the flooring in your quarters. Here seemed as good a place as any.”

“I suppose,” Odo grumbled.

“Besides, I’d like to debrief. I know Mr. Garak submitted his report already, but somehow, I trust you more to give me a real idea of what happened back there.”

Odo snorted. “ Somehow, I can believe that.”

The commander’s lips curled into a smile, but a look at the rest of his face told Odo he was struggling to find the humor. “I haven’t read his report yet.”

“Well, I’d hardly call reports the highest priority of anyone with a worthwhile job on this station.”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes, I find interesting things in them.” Sisko’s tone was conversational, but his eyes were locked on target and black with intensity. Odo shifted his weight and forced himself to stand up straighter. “I’ve been getting the impression that this one in particular is one I should read sooner rather than later.”

“And why is that?” Odo asked cautiously. 

“Garak seemed practically anxious to get you back on board safely. That isn’t like him.” Sisko informed him, leaning forward. “Should I be worried?”

“He’s had a long few days. I suppose the stress is getting to him.”

“I wasn’t talking about him.”

Odo stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Sisko said. Somehow, Odo didn’t get the feeling he meant it. The soft cadence of his voice felt placating. He gestured toward the chair across from him. “Have a seat”

Odo tensed. “Thank you, I can stand.”

Sisko’s eyes widened a fraction, his eyebrows raising just slightly. 

“Alright,” He granted. The tension in Odo’s shoulders softened a little. He remembered humanoids were supposed to breathe and resumed pretending to. He couldn’t remember stopping. “So tell me what happened after you and Mr. Garak left the station.”

“As you know, Garak and I left on a runabout to the third planet of the Unefra System,” Odo began, folding his arms. “A woman named Mila who he kept in contact with from his time on Cardassia asked him to go there to rescue one Enabran Tain.”

When the name didn’t register with Sisko, Odo clarified. “Tain was the head of the Obsidian Order when Garak worked as an agent. Several of his operatives had recently been killed by what we then thought were Romulans and Garak felt personally obligated to keep Tain from the same end. He had some kind of safe house on the planet where he was supposed to be enjoying his retirement.

“After we passed the border into Cardassian space, we got caught in a tractor beam from a cloaked Romulan Warbird. We tried breaking away, but their lock was too strong. I sent out a distress signal, but we were beamed aboard before it would have been any use.”

“They didn’t give any reason for stopping you?”

“Not at first,” Odo harrumphed. “Tain and a Romulan named Lovak met us when we beamed aboard. They claimed the Tal Shiar and the Obsidian Order had made an alliance against the Dominion and had a first strike planned against the Founders’ home world to destroy the Dominion in one attack. Tain claimed he wanted Garak back to help run the Order once he stepped out of retirement permanently after the mission. According to him, it was supposed to be some kind of reward for his loyalty.”

Sisko leaned forward, a gleam of calculated interest in his eyes. “But you don’t believe that?”

“Of course not,” Odo scoffed. “Tain’s a spy and a liar by trade who’s earned a reputation for stabbing his closest associates in the back. I wouldn’t trust a word out of his mouth even if he wasn’t spinning exactly the story Garak wanted to hear.”

“And you? Why bring you along?”

“I’m not exactly sure. It could have just been dumb luck that I happened to be on the same runabout as Garak. But once I was there, they decided they wanted information about the Dominion. The Tal Shiar had passed the information the Federation shared with them onto the Cardassians already, but they figured a changeling would have some insider knowledge that might prove useful.”

“I assume you told them you didn’t know anything else?”

“Naturally. But whether they’re Romulan or Cardassian, the secret police has never been that trusting.”

“I would have been more surprised if they were.”

“They weren’t thrilled about it. Tain and Lovak kept me prisoner. I assume they thought I would change my mind, otherwise they would have killed me.”

“How were you treated?”

The words dried up in Odo’s mouth. He eyed the Commander carefully. What had Garak said already? Sisko would probably have mentioned if he was already in custody, and he almost definitely would be if he’d confessed to torture. Odo didn’t trust the Federation any more than the Central Command, but the rules were different now. Sisko looked curious, his posture relaxed. If he was setting up a trap, then he was at least doing a very good job at hiding it. And if he actually didn’t already know, he certainly didn’t need to know.

“I don’t enjoy being a prisoner, but it was relatively harmless,” Odo grumbled, his eyes fixed on Sisko to monitor his reaction. “I stayed in quarters under watch until the Dominion attacked the ship and Garak and I evacuated.”

“They didn’t ask you anything about what you know?”

“I don’t know anything. Not any more than they already did. They asked plenty, but eventually, they had to realize that I couldn’t give them any information.”

“I’ve never known the Cardassians or the Romulans to give up that easily,” Sisko muttered, confusion coloring his voice. “Why would they take your word at face value?”

 Odo paused, careful to keep himself from adjusting his posture a centimeter. “Garak told them he was convinced that I didn’t know anything. Tain put a great deal of trust in him, so his word mattered more than mine.”

Sisko nodded, digesting the information. 

“Besides, the Founders gave them more important things to worry about,” Odo continued. “I was confined to quarters until the ship came under fire. Garak came to break me out once things got out of hand.”

“No one stopped you?”

“Lovak, the Romulan Commander, did. At least until he revealed he was a spy for the Founders. They knew about the Obsidian Order’s plan from the beginning. Making sure it happened just helped them to ensure an easy victory over the Romulan and Cardassian fleets in one go.”

“So they’ve infiltrated the Alpha Quadrant already,” Sisko muttered, his brow creased in a deep frown. Disturbance haunted his voice. It was a familiar feeling – there was no telling what the Dominion would do next and it was hard to believe they were going to just turn around and go home after taking out half the Quadrant’s life of defense.

“It would appear so.”

“Did this changeling say anything about whether the Founders have done the same to any other alliances? The Klingon Empire or the Federation?”

“No. We barely had time to discuss it before Garak and I had to leave for the runabout, but I think it’s safe to assume that if they’ve infiltrated the Romulans, they must already have operatives in every empire in the quadrant, the Federation included.”

Sisko’s expression darkened, a deep-seated tiredness settling over him like a soaked blanket. Odo knew the feeling. These days, it was hard not to feel exhausted with everything the galaxy threw at them.

“Am I free to go then?” He asked.

Sisko looked up from his work, his brow knitted and concern written on his face. It took all of Odo’s patience to keep from gagging. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some time off?”

“This station needs security, Sisko. Seeing as I’m alive and Chief of Security, I think it’s perfectly reasonable that I return to duty.”

“There are other security officers,” Sisko reminded him. As if Odo didn’t already know. As if the number of officers he had wasn’t constantly on his mind because Starfleet was constantly cutting down the amount of security he could give the station for no good reason in the first place. He scoffed, bitter.

“Not enough. Security is stretched thin on a good day even with the officers the Federation sends. We certainly can’t spare anyone after a compound threat to the station’s security from the Cardassians, the Romulans, and the Dominion.”

“As far as Starfleet Intelligence is concerned, the Dominion has the Cardassians and the Romulans covered.”

“And now that they’ve proven they can destroy two empires in a day, I’m sure Starfleet Command will sleep just fine but I won’t.”

“I see your point,” Sisko conceded, humming in consideration. Odo nodded, readying himself to leave. That is, until he saw the faux agreement drain from the Commander’s face. “I also see that it’s protocol to give officers time off after being kidnapped by an invading military force.”

“ Starfleet protocol,” Odo corrected. He didn’t bother to keep the scorn from his voice. Sisko raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had a week off already. That’s more than enough time away from my work.”

“I’d hardly call that a vacation.”

“A humanoid concept. As you can see, I’m not injured and I’d really prefer to get back to my work, Commander.”

“Of course, Constable,” Sisko agreed hesitantly. It was obvious from the look on his face that he didn’t agree, but it didn’t matter. Without evidence, there wasn’t much he could do. “But keep in mind that you’re free to talk to me about taking some time off if you change your mind. ”

“I’ll consider it,” Odo grunted, knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t. He dipped his head respectfully, then, when he was sure that Sisko didn’t have any more complaints to raise, turned on his heel and left.

As the doors screeched shut behind him, a few scattered heads turned his way. A young Andorian in engineering gold nodded politely. A Vulcan adorned in a worn red uniform with pips to match quickly looked away. When Kira caught his eye, she beamed and waved. Swallowing how pleased he felt that she was happy to see him, he smiled politely and nodded. He folded his arms behind his back, straightened his posture, and began his march past the bridge.

“Odo!” 

The changeling in question turned to see Lieutenant Dax heading his way, a smile stretching from ear to ear across her face. She reached out to touch his arm, but he moved out of her reach before she had the chance. Like most things, this didn’t seem to faze her. Kira, though, looked at him strangely. 

“It’s good to see you,” Dax smiled. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Odo acknowledged uneasily. Dipping his head respectfully, he headed briskly across the command center, eyes fixed on the turbolift. No one stopped him, luckily. The ride down was brisk, but for all he cared, it could have taken an eternity.

Then, finally – finally – he stepped out onto the familiar hallways of the Promenade. Odo stood at ease for a moment, reveling in his return to somewhere normal. Somewhere safe. But he couldn’t afford to let the citizens of DS9 catch him with his guard down, so he squared his shoulders and set out down the hall. Out of force of habit, he glanced toward Quark’s Bar to scour the scene for suspicious-looking figures. By sheer bad luck, its proprietor lingered just outside.

Quark glanced up from the Flaxian he was ushering inside. Odo stopped, frozen as the Ferengi looked his way. From the short distance across the Promenade, Quark’s eyes locked onto his and grew enormous and round. His face softened, relief melting his customer service smile into the closest thing to something genuinely happy that Odo had ever seen on him. His shoulders fell, relaxing from the showman’s posture they’d been held up in. 

Odo stood stock-still, drowning in discomfort. A strange feeling arose in his chest and he wasn’t sure he liked it. He made a sharp left turn, changing course to avoid the bar entirely. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Quark’s face falling, his brows twisting in bewilderment as he stumbled away from the bar. With a grimace, Odo focused his sights on the security office a mere eternity away. 

“Odo! Odo!”

The changeling in question rolled his eyes and kept walking. With luck, Quark would turn around and leave him be, but as everyone lately seemed so keen to remind him, he’d never had much of that.

“ Odo! ” Quark seized Odo’s wrist, yanking him backward. Panic stung Odo like a spear of ice and he snatched it back, whipping around to scowl at Quark. Irritation flared up inside him, but one look at the worry haunting Quark’s expression and his anger dried up and died. For a moment, they just stared at each other, neither knowing what to do. Quark opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish.

“What?” Odo snapped.

“ What? ” Quark repeated irritably, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging part way open like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What do you mean ‘what’ ?”

Odo’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening. “What do you want?”

“Can’t a man talk to an old friend? Why does everything have to be so suspicious with you?”

“ Friend, ” Odo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m only suspicious because you give me reason to be.”

“I haven’t done anything!”

“I’m sure,” Odo grumbled, sarcasm dripping from every word. He pulled his mouth into a condescending smile in hopes of scaring Quark away. Despite what he’d told Sisko, something hadn’t felt right since he’d pulled Garak onto the runabout. Holding his shape hadn’t been this much of a chore since his early days living in Dr. Mora’s lab. If he could only get back to his office, he’d at least have some privacy, but that involved getting Quark to leave first. 

Quark scoffed and shook his head, but quickly perked up and masked his irritation with a conman’s grin. “Constable, I’d like to talk to you about a wonderful new business opportunity that’s just opened up!”

“Would you.”

“Just think about it: now that Garak’s store has closed for the time being, there’s a vacancy in the Promenade. A vacancy of that kind could encourage all sorts of criminal behavior – just imagine what some untrustworthy sorts might get up to in a dark, abandoned shop like that! Now, say a massage parlor! That’s an idea that everyone will love, and–”

Quark’s mouth was still moving. Odo knew he was saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. His left eye burned. It couldn’t possibly be drying up again. That was ridiculous. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch it and check, but he forced himself to keep still.

“Odo?”

Odo blinked. Quark had stopped talking and was staring at Odo in a calculating, concerned sort of way. He must have been silent for longer than he’d thought to alarm even Quark.

“You okay?” Quark asked, his oddly-shaped brow burrowing in something resembling worry. Probably just for himself. Somehow, he could make anything about profit.

Odo simply nodded. Would his tongue melt out of his mouth if he said so? Probably not, it was an irrational thought. But why risk it?

Narrowing his eyes, Quark stared at him. Odo stared back, forcing his face back into a stern glare because it was the only thing he could think of that might look normal.

"You're being weird, even for you."

Odo huffed. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Quark reached out a hand – to do what, Odo didn’t care to know – and opened his mouth, but Odo jerked back. With a sneer and a harrumph, he turned on his heel and marched off.

“Tell Sisko about my business proposal!” Quark yelled after him. Odo snorted and kept walking. The idea was so stupid that there was hardly any point in even asking the Commander. He already knew what the answer would be – any reasonable person would. But that alone couldn’t account for the unease prickling inside him. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Quark was right: he was being weird and he had no idea what to do about it. Longing to head to the turbolift and hole himself away in his quarters until people stopped asking about him surged to an ache inside him, but he’d committed to working a full shift and couldn’t back down now. Steeling himself for a miserable day, he pressed on toward the security office.

An ideal shift, in Odo’s mind, was one as uneventful as humanly – or, rather, not so humanly – possible. The less noise, the less fuss, and, most importantly, the less attention paid to him the better. He’d never liked attention and he especially hated staring. Back in his early days at Terok Nor, he could hardly stand to raise his eyes off of the floor just so he at least didn’t have to see people looking at him – though he knew they were doing it anyway thanks once again to his changeling physiology that no one could seem to get enough of. No matter how many people stared and gawked and pointed at him, he could always feel every single set of eyes searing into him.

In this case, for instance, he could feel Doctor Bashir’s eyes on him every second of the shift no matter where he tried to escape to. All day, he spent shifts pointedly ignoring incessant staring from a doctor with no business on the Promenade. He was easily avoided, at least, if an occasional nuisance. A few quick interactions about which prisoner needed what treatment and which doctor needed security detail were unavoidable, but relatively painless.

By the end of the last shift of the day, though, the doctor caught him while he was finishing up examining some dubiously legal shipping containers that had arrived at the station without an obvious owner to collect them. Odo fought back a groan at the sight of the man bouncing toward him.

“Hello, Constable!” Bashir chirped. His grin had spread so far across his face that he almost looked deformed. One of the many insufferable things about him. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“No, I mean how are you?” The doctor asked, staring very intently at him. Odo fixed him a look and said nothing more. Bashir didn’t seem to take the hint. He leaned his arm against a shipping crate that came up to just below his chest and rested his cheek against his palm. 

“Really? There’s nothing going on in good, old DS9 station security? Nothing unusual?”

“Not particularly.”

“Nothing exciting? No new cappers or murders, or–” Bashir yelped as his arm slid too far down the crate and he all but fell over himself. Scrambling back into position, he quickly dusted himself off and smiled like nothing had happened. “Other exciting things that you do?”

Odo narrowed his eyes and looked the man up and down. It was difficult to tell whether something was off or whether this was just an extension of Bashir’s normal state of being.

“Me personally, I’ve been bogged down all week. It seems like everyone on the station just can’t help but get injured these last few days. In fact, I’ve had so many cases, most doctors wouldn’t be able to handle it, not with the setup I’ve got. Luckily for us, I’m not most doctors.”

“I thought sickbay was undergoing repairs.”

“Oh, it was. But I got the Chief to give it special attention and he fixed it right up, so now we’re back open for business.”

Grunting noncommittally, Odo turned his attention back to the lists of the shipping container’s contents on his PADD. Bashir bit his lip, his eyes scanning Odo’s form. 

“Odo, are you feeling alright?” He asked, quieter now. Odo nearly rolled his eyes. 

“Yes.”

“I don’t suppose you’re in the mood for taking a break anytime soon?”

“I’ll be done with this shift once these shipping containers have been dealt with. Is there something you need?” 

“I’d like to see you in my office, actually.”

“Some other time, Doctor.”

“Odo,” Bashir said, lowering his voice. Something about the way he said it caught Odo’s attention. He set the PADD down slowly, turning his attention to the doctor. Bashir stood normally now, closer than before and away from the storage container. A very sad expression pinched his face. “Garak told me.”

Odo froze. Betrayal stabbed him through the chest. Ice ran through his fingertips, leaving him frozen like a rat staring down a predator he’d only just realized was right in front of him. Caught. He was caught with no means of escape. Garak had no reason to be loyal to him, he reminded himself. The doctor was the only person he cared about on this station and the only one he owed anything to. O f course Garak had told, he realized, furious with himself for being surprised. How could he have expected the Cardassian to keep his wits about him around Doctor Bashir for more than a minute?

“It’s okay,” Bashir whispered softly, raising a placating hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure everything’s alright.”

Odo scowled. The icy dread faded, melted down by a tumbling wave of annoyance. His fingers twitched, his voice hardening. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Odo–”

“Save your worry for someone who needs it, Doctor.”

“Constable–” Bashir started, but Odo fixed him with a glare.

“I have work to do. Do you have something you need or would you like to explain to Sisko why this station’s security is still in shambles?”

Bashir paused, his brow furrowed and face scrunched like he had more to say and really, really didn’t want to drop it. Miraculously, he gave in anyway.

“No. Sorry, I’ll let you get back to your work.”

The doctor stood frozen, examining Odo with a worried frown. But at last, he nodded and left, only glancing over his shoulder once on the way out.

More than he ever had since he’d been stationed to Terok Nor, Odo dreaded coming into work the following day. Maybe he’d finally get some time to work by himself, but the nagging voice of common sense in the back of his head refuted the idea. Bashir was nothing if not persistent. While Odo liked to pride himself on his ability to be convincing, it wasn’t like the doctor to give up that easily. Besides, the man was almost as much of a loudmouth as Dax, and if he knew, then it wouldn’t be long before someone else – or more likely, half the station – knew.

No, he realized with a sinking feeling, this certainly wasn’t going to be the last he heard of this.

Criminal activity had gone down since Odo had gotten back. A few days of data wasn’t much to go off of, but he still caught whispers while he surveilled the station. Two of the usual suspects and a new merchant on the station had already turned down a number of highly illegal deals – apparently, it wasn’t worth the risk when the changeling was back. The regular security lineup was fine, if understaffed, but most of them didn’t know the station’s regulars quite like he did. Getting things back to order was more work than usual, but a good distraction and easier than he’d expected.

All in all, it should have been a great couple of days. If Odo could have gotten himself to stop thinking about the doctor’s prying, it would have been. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his work, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering off to exactly how much Bashir knew. If it were just that Bashir knew the barebones, that would be manageable, but lying in wait to learn what he would do with a full account was almost worse than the actual torture. It’d been two days since he’d seen heads or tails of the man and every second pushed him closer to kicking down the door to sickbay and issuing him some strongly worded advice on keeping his mouth shut.

But work came first and he had to at least try to focus on it.

As a general rule, Odo tried to avoid people. He’d never been much of a socialite anyway, but ever since he’d gotten back, he’d gotten worse. Keeping up with all the social conventions humanoids seemed to master so easily felt more draining than usual. Still, he needed Chief O’Brien’s opinion on a technical element of a case, so he’d trudged up to the bridge to ask him.

In the end, O’Brien’s input was useful but nothing to write a warrant over. There was something else to the case. Something else he was missing, something staring him right in the face and yet –

“Constable.”

Odo glanced up. Sisko stood just outside the doors to his office, staring down at him from the top of the stairs.

“Are you busy?”

Hesitating to answer, Odo warily examined the man. Something about him – the overly professional way he was standing, the guarded expression on his face, the way he stayed glued to the top of the ledge just how Gul Dukat used to when whatever he had to say next wasn’t up for debate – looked off. Odo’s eyes narrowed.

“I could make time,” He admitted, chewing on the words slowly with all the enthusiasm of a man condemned to death.

“Good. I’d like to see you in my office,” Captain Sisko said, the polite tone a mere nicety that did little to disguise the absence of a genuine request. For a moment, Odo thought about not following. But the moment passed and he nodded instead. Setting his shoulders back, he marched after him, a sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to be good news settling deep inside of him.

“ ‘Recommended mental health leave?’ ” Odo snarled. Bashir winced at the assault on his ears, biting his lip uneasily and glancing toward the door as if he expected someone outside sickbay to hear them. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No! No, of course not!”

“But you think I’m out of mine?”

“That isn’t what this is about.”

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind telling me what this is about?” Odo spat, indignant fury burning through his body. Bashir only softened more, taking on a sad, pitying expression that made his non-blood boil.

“Odo, you’ve just been tortured,” Bashir pointed out quietly. As if Odo needed to be reminded. As if he was a child who needed to be condescended to. “Anyone would some time –”

“Anyone,” Odo agreed, gritting his teeth. “ but not me. ”

“ Yes, even you. It’s not any different from taking time to treat an injury – there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Bashir countered. “And on that note, you’ve avoided having a proper physical done since this all happened, and I really do need to at least try and look you over.”

“I’m fine. ”

“I think I’ll be the one to make that decision,” Julian countered, puckering his lips in a doubtful sort of way. He had no confidence at all that Odo knew anything about how he was functioning and that was all Odo needed to know to decide that this meeting had finished. Just as he turned to storm out, however, Bashir grabbed his shoulder.

“Odo, I’m not doing this to punish you. I’m worried about you.” When the scowl he received in response didn’t seem to be what he was aiming for, he changed tactics. “It won’t be forever. Look, I’ve even made it extra short for you. Just one week and then you’re all done.”

“A lot can happen in a week.”

“ Yes, exactly why I need you off duty and resting without exacerbating your condition.”

My condition , Odo repeated silently to himself, each word oozing with cold bitterness. He almost demanded to know what exactly Bashir thought his “condition” was, but thought better of it when he decided he wasn’t positive he wanted to know the answer to that question. 

“Now, please, come sit down for just a minute. This will be over before you know it.”

It was not over before Odo knew it. 

Every test and scan Bashir ran only proved exactly how little he knew about changeling physiology. Whenever he finished one, he only stressed himself out more trying to piece together information with the scraps he could identify in a sea of unreadable data. Before long, the medical office was drowning in piles of barely useful research he’d dug up from who knows where on every last thing ever claimed about changelings. All of it frankly seemed like a lot of time to waste on practically nothing. Just when Odo was sure the man was going to finally admit defeat, Bashir perked up. Apparently, he’d convinced himself that he’d devised an ingenious new method of piecing together a picture of the barebones essentials of Odo’s health from what looked to be just about every record of information about Odo that had ever been created. His good mood crumbled, however, when he got to actually reviewing what he’d gotten from the scans he’d started with.

“ Odo ,” Bashir gawked, somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. One of his sea of charts clutched in his fist, he ran his free hand through his hair. “You’ve been working in this condition?”

“I assumed you knew that seeing as you apparently know everything,” Odo spat.

“Well, I knew what happened , but you didn’t tell me the aftereffects were this bad. If I’d known all this, I would have put you on medical leave the second we beamed you aboard the runabout.”

“That would have been entirely unnecessary.”

“I really don’t think so. I mean, can you see– just look at the–” Bashir stammered, gesturing helplessly toward two desks littered with PADDs and files. Odo raised a brow.

“And what exactly do you plan to do with that?”

“I– what?”

“It took you Garak and all of that to figure out that anything was wrong with me. Neither of us know anything of use about my species. What exactly do you plan to do to fix any of this, since you’re so concerned about it?”

Bashir fell quiet, helplessness melting into another one of those pitifully sad expressions that made Odo squirm. A sigh tumbled from his lips. “I don’t know. I really don’t know, Odo.”

The doctor stepped away, wandering toward his chaotic mess of a desk. He grabbed a PADD from the nearest pile, glanced at it quickly, and looked back. Before Odo could complain about it, the sad look on Bashir’s face disappeared, replaced by a far worse determination.

“But I do know that I’m certainly not having you running around working yourself to death and exacerbating things instead of getting some good, old fashioned rest,” Basir insisted, waving the PADD at him like a disappointed mother wagging her finger. Odo scowled. “Really, Odo, did you honestly think I wouldn’t be concerned about this?”

“It’s not your issue to be concerned with.”

“I think Starfleet would disagree with you – they did make me Chief Medical Officer, after all. Every health issue on this station is my concern.”

“I don’t care what Starfleet– ”

“If you’re that determined to argue about it, I could have you confined to sickbay overnight while we figure this out together,” Bashir quipped, seemingly unaffected by the withering glare Odo threw at him. “ Or, you could take a nice, little vacation, get some rest, and come check in with me after a week so that you can get back to work. How does that sound?”

Horrible. Odo stood stock-still, every liquid ounce of him boiling with contempt. In thirteen years at this job, he’d never understood murderers this well before. His lips curled into a snarl.

“Don’t come running to me when security runs out of control and you don’t have enough beds to keep your patients on,” Odo ground out, forcing every word through gritted teeth. He turned and stormed out of sickbay, almost opting to turn around and take the other way because he did not want to see Quark right now but ultimately marching past the hoard of people streaming onto the Promenade. He didn’t care who saw him as long as he got out of here as soon as possible.

Only when the door shut behind him and he was safe inside his quarters did the anger dull enough for him to think this through. If Garak had written anything in his report that Sisko hadn’t read yet, it wouldn’t be long before Sisko got to it – especially given all the extra incentive Bashir had just given him to get around to looking into their little trip. And if Garak really wrote everything , then all hell was going to break loose.

Waiting was killing him. He needed to know what was in that damned report. Medical leave wasn’t supposed to lock him out of his access codes for another hour or so, meaning he could still get into the system. Snatching a PADD off of his desk, he scrolled straight past the files to the mission logs and official reports, typing codes rapidfire through walls of security blocks. Once he made it into the general supply of reports, he started sifting through them by date for the most recent reports.

Nothing. Not a single word about it. Relief washed over Odo, the tension draining from his shoulders. So as far as the official record was concerned, he’d spent a while confined to quarters until Garak broke him out and that was it. Alright. He could work with that.

That just left the medical leave.

As far as he could tell, Sisko didn’t know anything, but that didn’t make the concerned looks he kept sending Odo the entire meeting any less infuriating. Odo fought back a groan. What Sisko must think of him now.

Odo dropped the PADD back onto the desk. He wandered away from the desk and around the maze of structures that lined the room.

Brushing his hand along the structure in the center of the room, he let his fingers melt into the surface texture. Just like he’d done a thousand times before. But it was different now. Harder. Little shocks ran up his arms, adding to the ache of keeping his form that had been growing all day. What used to be his fingers twitched involuntarily, glitching in and out of form. He glared at them, frustration flaring. He tried to force them back into shape, but they only lost more of their form. It should be easy. It was supposed to be easy. If he could just concentrate then it would be fine, but nothing he did lately worked.

His metal shape flickered back into liquid again and he jerked it back, snorting angrily. Glaring, he watched it shift in and out of form a few times before it clumsily sloshed back into place as his hand.

Admittedly, he knew he hadn’t been at his best since he’d been captured. Going back to full shifts straight away was hasty. But if he wasn’t working, then what was the point of him being here? He could handle it. Despite what Bashir said, Sisko should have known that he could handle it. He’d had worse and still done a better job than the last ten security chiefs had done on the best days of their careers. 

And without his work, what was he supposed to do with a week? Stressful as it could be, that job was really the only thing Odo did all day and he was already starved for something to do in its absence. He’d imagined he could at least spend the time practicing shapeshifting, but apparently, he couldn’t even manage that.

In the end, he melted into his natural state early. What he’d do next, he wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing: tomorrow, he was going to have a word with Garak.

Despite arriving exactly on time – to the second, as usual – Odo found Garak already waiting for him when he marched over to the table they’d agreed upon. The man fiddled anxiously with the handle of his cup of Tarkalean tea, something Odo hadn’t imagined he’d ever see him do in the five or so years since Garak first ended up on his interrogation list back during the days of Terok Nor. Once, it might have been entertaining. Now it only made Odo hyperaware of every person loitering or passing nearby who might notice and wonder why. He pulled himself a chair and sat down.

“Odo!” Garak exclaimed, a smile quickly plastered over his face.  “I’m glad to see you. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“This is the time I said I would come.”

“Is it?”

Odo fixed him a look as if to say, Obviously , but didn’t otherwise entertain the question. Garak sipped his drink, watching him carefully. He hadn’t been at ease since before the attempt on his life. This wasn’t helping. Odo figured he wouldn’t be much better in Garak’s shoes, though he didn’t plan on finding himself in a situation like that anytime soon.

“Can I assume this meeting is of a personal nature, seeing as breakfast doesn’t seem to be your cup of tea?”

“If I wanted to interrogate you, I’d put you in a cell.”

“So you would,” Garak agreed. His voice was cheery, but his taut face betrayed his eagerness to extract Odo’s intent. He’d never looked more like an agent. “And is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss?”

“You told Bashir,” Odo said, his eyes narrowing. Garak tensed, still smiling but the pleasure didn’t reach his eyes, leaving him appearing unusually caught. 

“Ah. I see he told you about that.”

“Who else knows?”

“Honestly, Constable, the good Doctor is the only soul I said a word to. If anyone else knows, you’d have to ask him yourself. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to offer you a thorough report of everyone he’s passed that particular tidbit along to.”

Odo sat back in his chair, throwing his focus to the floor as he huffed. “I don’t think Sisko knows. Bashir’s already talked to him and he still isn’t acting like he knows anything. But if Bashir knows, it’s only a matter of time before Dax does too.”

“And if this got out, I suspect it wouldn’t do wonders for your reputation.”

“I’d be more concerned about what’s going to happen to you if I were you,” Odo hissed, forcing his voice lower. “If word reaches Sisko, you’ll be doing hard time on a Federation penal colony. Starfleet doesn’t look kindly on the assault of its officers.”

“I wasn’t aware you considered yourself an operative of the Federation.”

“I don’t , but Sisko won’t see it that way when he’s writing his report. Believe it or not, most of the admirals who process those reports still happen to respect him more than they want me gone. And that’s without even considering the fit the Provisional Government will have if they find out a former Cardassian spy abducted one of its operatives.”

“Ah. That would pose an issue,” Garak agreed, inclining his head.  “So we can agree that it would be to our mutual benefit to keep this between us.”

“Yes, we certainly can. And that means keeping third parties out of it.”

“Of course. Bashir was simply an unfortunate complication”

“Believe me, I know enough about how you are with him,” Odo scoffed. Garak blinked, momentarily at a loss for words, and Odo allowed himself a minute to enjoy seeing something the least bit genuine come from him. “I gather he didn’t take it too well.”

A tight smile clawed its way across Garak’s face. “No, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Give him time. He’ll get over it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I did.”

“I see.” Garak’s expression shifted. Dread sickened Odo as he recognized the beginnings of an apology. “About that, actually.”

“Unless it’s relevant to station security, there’s nothing you could tell me that I’m interested in hearing.”

“Alright.” The Cardassian didn’t look at all like he agreed. Discomfort radiated off of him in waves as he sluggishly stirred his tea, avoiding eye contact. Odo softened. He figured he was being a little unfair when he knew how badly Garak wanted to say it, but he couldn’t help feeling like he’d rather claw his own eyes out than hear it.

“Are you keeping the shop?” Odo asked. Garak looked up, blinking. Maybe he had assumed the window for polite conversation had ended, Odo supposed. Social niceties mattered more to him than they ever had to Odo.

“Oh, yes. I think I will.” Like a light had switched on, the Cardassian seemed at once totally recovered from his previous uneasiness. “It seems I’ll be residing on this station for a while yet, and you never know what things you might learn as a tailor.”

Odo hummed, shifting into a posture that felt more conversational. “Good. It was either that or listening to Quark’s business proposals until someone else took it.”

“I’m glad to be of service,” Garak purred, a smile snaking across his face. The tight fist of tension in Odo’s core loosened. With all of that Tain mess behind them, everything felt easier. “Now, you’re familiar with the owner of the Klingon restaurant across the Promenade?”

Nodding, Odo sat straighter, undeniably interested. “Lukino K’mparv. He moved to the station after the occupation ended due to some compromised bloodwine trading endeavors back home.”

“The very same.” Garak’s enormous eyes stretched wide with a playful seriousness: a trademark of a distinguished gossip. “I believe I’ve heard something about him that you’ll find quite interesting.”

Odo had always been under the impression that he couldn’t dream. It was a fairly reasonable assumption, seeing as he rarely chose to spend regeneration cycles truly unconscious. The few times he did, the experience seemed to be over in the blink of an eye.

And yet, fractured memories of his captivity haunted him all throughout the night. For hours, he could hear himself screaming, but couldn’t feel himself making the sounds. Images of Garak and Tain flashed rapidly through his head, chatting and gossiping idly over trivial Cardassian political drama like he wasn’t dying at their feet. The walls of the makeshift prison bleached laboratory white and the machine’s field intensified while Cardassians in lab coats bore holes into his head with their vile, disgusting eyes that eagerly longed for results, results, results.  

The noise – the whine of the overworked machine, the voices around him, the screaming – grew deafening. Over all of it, a horrible screeching pierced through his mind like it was butter. He tried to cover his ears, only to realize in horror that his hands were gone – dried up and reduced to scraps of dead skin on the floor. Even so, they burned , and the flakes of skin falling endlessly off of his face and torso and the stubs where his limbs had been seared with an agony more intense than his loudest screams. He jerked his head around the room helplessly – looking for Garak, for help – but he couldn’t recognize any of the faces in the wall of eyes trapping him. 

Footsteps banged through the room like gunshots, echoing from everywhere around him. He tried to force himself to find where they were coming from, but the eyes seared hotter every time he looked at them, even by accident, and he was forced back to gluing the fragmented remains of his eyes to the floor just so he didn’t have to see them. A horrible buzzing rose over all the noise. Agony ripped through him, pain like he’d never felt tearing him apart until he was sure he could see himself dying. He wasn’t sure he could even feel his own body anymore, only the pain. He wasn’t even sure he was alive anymore. There wasn’t anything left of him worth knowing about. Nothing left at all.

Consciousness crashed over Odo like an avalanche. Panic surging, he scrambled to pull his humanoid form up and off the floor, tripping over his own feet as he lunged away from his attackers. Looking wildly around the room, he couldn’t find anyone. He shook his head, trying to make sense of everything, but he couldn’t get his breathing under control. Everything felt wrong, but he couldn’t tell what was happening. He stuck his hands out in front of himself, but they looked normal. No chipping, no flakes falling off, no nothing. A little shoddily formed and wrecked with glitch-like tremors as he struggled to keep their shape right, but not crumbling to bits like they had been. 

Relief softened the fear, and for a second, he could breathe okay. But the calm screeched to a halt as a wormhole of exhaustion sucked the gravity out of the room. The ground came out from under him and he slammed against the floor before he had time to process what was happening. On instinct, he slammed his hand against his combadge as he fell. The communicator chirped to life, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to report.

“Hello?” Someone – probably Bashir, but his voice sounded fuzzy – called when Odo didn’t say anything. Dimly, Odo remembered that Starfleet patched unaddressed combadge calls to the CMO in case of emergency. His mouth opened to respond, but no sound came. A sudden dryness choked his throat, squeezing the moisture out of any words he tried to form.

“Hello? Bashir to whoever’s calling?” Then, a pause. Odo recognized the distant sound of Bashir fiddling with the Sickbay computer. He might have asked it something, but Odo frankly wasn’t paying that close attention. “Odo, is that you?”

Odo winced at the noise. If he could just have a minute to stop the cacophony of sounds and voices in his head, he could figure this out, but he could barely isolate his own thoughts from the wreck of his mind. 

“Bashir to Odo, please respond.”

He wanted to tell Bashir that everything was fine. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t true, he just needed to hear himself say it. There just wasn’t enough strength left in him to bring himself to do it. 

“Odo, I’m on my way.”

Dimly, Odo knew he would regret letting Bashir come. The second he arrived, all of this would feel stupid. Frankly, it was already starting to feel stupid. A few years ago, he regularly looked Gul Dukat in the eye and refused to serve whatever bloodthirsty whim he’d gone off on that day, and now he couldn’t handle having a frightening dream without crying for help. What a joke he’d become.

Still. If it was so simple, why couldn’t he make his deformed messes of hands stop shaking? Why couldn’t he make proper hands at all?

Maybe he was just being dramatic. Maybe he’d gotten worse at shapeshifting in the idle years since he’d last had Cardassians screaming at him to imitate every odd fantasy they could think of on a whim. Or maybe, he considered – the cold hand of dread raking at his back – this was worse than he’d given it credit for. His hands glitched again. Maybe it wasn’t normal to be so familiar with torture and all of it – the lab experiments, entertaining the Cardassians like a creature in a petting zoo, the trip with Garak – was too much to take and this was just the breaking point. 

He hoped for everything’s sake – his career, his pride, himself – it wasn’t true. But when he thought about it logically, looked under every rock for a single clue that disproved it, he turned up empty. And that emptiness terrified him more than anything he’d seen in his head that night.

Hissing, the door slid open. Bashir hurried past the doorway, looked around the room, then caught sight of Odo and was crouched beside him on the floor in an instant. He pulled a hand scanner out of his medical satchel and started hovering it near Odo, who grimaced at the sting of the muffled hum of the machinery.

“Odo, can you hear me?” Bashir asked, his voice thrumming in a soft cadence lined with worry.

“I’m fine, ” Odo grumbled, forcing himself to look the man in the face. Hot shame shot through him at the sight of the wide-eyed concern creasing Bashir’s expression. The doctor’s brow furrowed and Odo realized he didn’t believe him.

“I’m sure you are, but I just want to be careful.” Tentatively, Bashir stuck his hand out between them, his palm facing up. Odo regarded it with suspicion. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Bashir nodded, seemingly unfazed. He put his hand away. “Okay. I’m just going to need you to tell me how you’re feeling, then: if and where you’re experiencing any pain, if you’re having any trouble holding your form, if you’re anxious at all. Anything that seems like it could be helpful.”

“I feel fine.”

“If you could be honest, that would be even more helpful.”

“I am fine. I’m just having trouble concentrating right now. I’m sorry for bothering you; it was an accident. Once I can think clearly, I’ll hold this form fine.”

“Is there any particular reason you’re having trouble concentrating right now?”

“Not really.”

“Can I ask what you were doing before this all happened?”

Odo paused. “Practically nothing. I was just . . . reflecting.”

Bashir’s expression softened, an understanding settling on his face that made it difficult for Odo to avoid squirming. 

“Okay. I appreciate your honesty,” He said, a gentleness quieting his voice that Odo had heard many times before but never received. Odo swallowed, suddenly finding his hands very exciting to look at. “Now, I know you’re not going to like this, but I want to take you down to Sickbay so that I can look you over and make sure nothing’s going wrong.”

“I really don’t see how that’s necessary.”

Bashir sighed. “I don’t want to do this, but I’m willing to get Commander Sisko involved in this if I feel like I have to.”

Odo’s expression darkened into a murderous glare, but he kept his complaints silent.

“Alright,” Basir said, sounding cautiously optimistic but shifting awkwardly like he was still getting his bearings. “Would it be more comfortable for you to melt down into your natural form, or–” 

“I’ll walk,” Odo snapped, pulling himself to his feet. Bashir followed suite, his mouth hanging open like a gaping fish. He reached out a hand to help, then froze. He hovered there, trying unsuccessfully to say something helpful. A glance at Odo’s face and he made up his mind and pulled his hand back.

“Right,” He decided, his obvious discomfort lagging behind the word. He kept examining Odo from a distance, his eyes darting all over as if he expected to find something he hadn’t noticed before. “Let’s get you to Sickbay, then.”

Brightness flooded his vision the second stepped foot into sickbay. After a few rounds of blinking, he blearily adjusted to the unforgiving burn of the overhead lights of sickbay that stared down at him. Bashir directed him toward a medical bed where Odo perched himself while the doctor resumed scanning him. Only a familiarly dull, weary ache remained where sharp agony had once been. Nothing out of the ordinary felt particularly wrong, just that everything seemed worn out.

After what felt like an eternity, Bashir didn’t seem any closer to learning anything helpful. He sat hunched over a computer screen, scrutinizing every miniscule detail of results that provided just as little as they had an hour ago. It might have been a nice break from being fussed over personally if Odo could have standed to sit back and watch more time going to waste. Swallowing his apprehension, he cleared his throat. The sound caught the doctor’s attention and Bashir turned around, eyes widening and a practiced smile sliding across his face. In an instant, he was at the Constable’s side.

“How are you feeling?” Bashir asked softly, placing a hand on Odo’s shoulder. The sudden weight felt heavy and for a moment, Odo was so distracted by it that he almost forgot to answer the question. 

“Fine,” Odo lied again. That question was wearing on him by now. Doctor Bashir frowned.

“Odo, you collapsed in your quarters.”

Odo’s mouth tightened into a thin line, pulling his folded arms closer to his chest. All this was just what he’d needed right now. 

His silent agitation did not seem to encourage the doctor.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that this had something to do with all the stress you’ve been under lately?” Bashir offered, a knowing expression on his face. Odo looked away. Had that really been all it was? The pain had felt so real , and the thought that it had all been a figment of his panicked imagination sent embarrassment coursing through him.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Doctor,” Odo responded since he couldn’t think of anything better to say. Concern carved its way into the crevices of the frown overtaking Bashir’s face.

“Now, I know this isn’t enjoyable for you, but you need to rest,” Bashir stressed. His thumb rubbed Odo’s shoulder in a manner that was probably intended to be comforting but seemed to sear into his skin and made his chest ache. Odo decided to ignore that. “I promise that you’re safe here. You’ve been through something very serious and you won’t just recover without taking time to properly take care of yourself.”

Odo grunted noncommittally.

“I mean it, Odo. Even if I don’t understand how your body works, your mental health is important, and contrary to what you might think, I put you on leave because I genuinely believe it will do you some good provided you take advantage of it. Frankly, I don’t think therapy would be a bad idea.”

Odo harrumphed. The sound came out sharp and angry, but anxiety stabbed him and twisted its cold knife in his back at the suggestion. Even the idea of more doctors – maybe even ones he didn’t know – coming to study him made him want to die. All he wanted was for this to be over and done with. A sigh tumbled from Bashir’s lips.

“Unfortunately, I happen to know you too well to seriously think you’d go through with that, which leaves rest as really the only thing I can prescribe. Preferably don’t make anything worse if you can help it, seeing as there won’t be anything that I can do to help you.”

Unsure what to say, Odo hesitated. Burying the pit of unease, he forced himself to be polite.“I’ll try.”

Relief washed over Bashir’s face. His smile returned. “Good. That might be all you can offer me right about now.”

The CMO returned to looking over medical data on the computer, leaving Odo to process under the illusion of privacy. That was it, then. Just a scare; everything was completely fine. Still, his experience had left him uneasy. Just before he’d collapsed, it really felt just like his body was ready to start falling apart all over. Surely, if it had happened again, Bashir would have seen it.

“Doctor,” Odo started hesitantly. Bashir’s eyes flickered back to him, round with attention. “When I made the call, there wasn’t anything . . . wrong with me, was there? Medically, I mean.”

Bashir frowned and pursed his lips, considering the question. He shook his head. “Not that I could see. As far as I could tell, you were just a little over-excited. Why? Do you feel like something’s wrong?”

“No. Thank you. I just thought I’d check.”

“Of course,” Bashir said, nodding. He looked back toward the computer, then turned back toward Odo like he’d realized something else he’d forgotten. “If you’d like to rest some, I’ve got some clean buckets in the backroom.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer to rest in my quarters.”

Bashir frowned. “Are you sure you feel up to walking back already?”

“ Thank you , Doctor, but I’ll be fine.”

“All the same, I think I’d feel better if you laid down for a few minutes first.”

Nodding, Odo laid back down. He really would have preferred to be in the privacy of his own quarters, especially with the faint buzz of activity across the hall at Quark’s filling the room like white noise, but a few minutes could hardly hurt. His eyes fell shut and the bright world of Sick Bay dimmed. 

Breathing – a learned trait he’d picked up from watching humanoids do it – seemed more difficult to perform evenly than usual. Even with the warmth of the room and Dr. Bashir’s presence, his body prickled with unease. Torture wasn’t exactly new to him, but this time, the wound was fresh and still stung. Logically, he knew that Tain’s plot had been foiled, the vessel he’d been imprisoned on had been destroyed, and he had made it back to Deep Space Nine in one piece, but none of that made him feel any safer.

Even though he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t help but wonder again whether he’d reached his limit of how many times he could take something like this. He’d always assumed he could take it and move on with his life just fine every time as long as he ended up alive since that seemed to be what always happened, but he hadn’t collapsed the times before. Then again, maybe he just hadn’t had time to.

Odo waited for a couple of minutes that passed by slower than any in recent memory. All the while, his mind incessantly wandered back to the feeling of his skin peeling off of his body. Maybe Bashir was right. Maybe he wasn’t fit for duty. Not when he could barely make it a full day before being confined to the infirmary.

He flexed his fingers, watching them closely for the slightest imperfections. This time tomorrow he would be meeting Garak for breakfast and his scheming, serpentine eyes would notice anything that wasn’t as it should be. Odo focused with sharper scrutiny, searching for a stray flake or wobble or drop out of place. He couldn’t find anything, but he reformed his hand anyway. Bashir was eyeing him strangely from across Sickbay – not trying hard enough to be subtle – but it didn’t matter. He had to be fine by tomorrow. ShiKahr’s deserts would freeze over before he would look anyone in the eye without being good enough to hold himself together.

After he couldn’t even imagine any slip-ups and his body felt steady enough, he managed to excuse himself and slip past the crowds outside back toward the Habitat Ring.

On the third day of leave, Quark came by his office. Out of sheer bad luck, Odo happened to be checking some minor security details on the main console – what Sisko and Bashir didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them – when it happened, but he managed to melt into a PADD and clatter onto the desk just as he recognized the sound of footsteps creeping up to the door. Quark leered inside, pressing his face against the locked doors with his hands cupped around his squinting eyes like binoculars. 

Please, please leave now, he pleaded silently. If the Prophets really were listening, maybe they’d be merciful enough to not let him have to deal with Quark right now. 

Unfortunately, the barkeep had never been blessed with the common sense to know when to quit, and he began fiddling with the security panel beside the doors. Irritation, but not quite surprise, stung Odo at the ease with which the doors slid open. He hadn’t realized his personal security had been so neglected. Just like that, Quark was strolling into his office and Odo was silently praying to any higher power in existence that he only wanted to fiddle with the console quickly and leave.

“Odo?” Quark called, looking around. When he found nothing, he pulled into the side closet only to pop back out moments later with a frustrated expression on his face and an empty bucket in his hand. “Where are you, you stupid shapeshifter?”

He abandoned the bucket haphazardly in an empty corner of the room and walked back to the desk, looking determined to find whatever it was that he could possibly need. Much to Odo’s misery, Quark picked him up and flicked through a few short pages of information that Odo scrambled to shift onto his artificial surface in time for the Ferengi to read. He squinted strangely at the screen, but set it down again as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. Claws drummed impatiently on the desk just beside Odo while Quark scowled, his lips pursed. Then he paused. An idea was forming behind widened eyes. He looked back at the PADD and Odo very sincerely wanted to die, but his gaze continued to the main console.  

“Computer, where is Odo?”

“Security Chief Odo is in the Security Office,” came the robotic voice of the console. For a moment, Quark perked up. Then his eyes fell on the abandoned comm badge sitting on the desk and his sour expression returned. Hissing angrily, he threw the PADD back onto the table and stormed out.

Again alone, Odo dutifully remained in the form he’d taken, quietly cursing the roughness with which he’d been handled. He spent the next thirteen minutes lying motionless and hoping Quark had really left. And yet, when he reformed and found no sign of the Ferengi, disappointment weighed heavily on his chest.

The roar of the river had reached a deafening scream by the time Odo stepped onto the bank. White rapids raged, tearing apart any unfortunate sticks that had the misfortune of winding up in their path. None of this seemed to intimidate Chief O’Brien, who only seemed even more excited as he tore through the ropes attaching the raft to the shore. Solids, he decided, were creatures he’d never properly understand. How he’d had managed to get himself wrapped up in O’Brien’s semi-regular rafting trips, he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“All done!” O’Brien called, a wide grin lighting up his face. It definitely had to be abnormal that the man was sitting there beaming while he voluntarily prepared to narrowly avoid drowning for fun. “Just bring the paddles over here and we’ll take on this here river!”

Picking up the paddles, Odo edged down to the raft, which looked like it was going to be swallowed up by the crashing waves at any second as it thrashed futilely in the raging river. Odo eyed it suspiciously, sending a look of doubt O’Brien’s way. The engineer didn’t appear fazed, only responding by reaching out to take one of the paddles from him.

“Great, thanks,” O’Brien said, flashing a smile.

O’Brien thumped him hard on the back as he walked around him. Apparently, Odo had come to learn, this was meant as a friendly gesture, despite all evidence to the contrary. The Chief got himself settled in the raft fairly quickly, and Odo followed when he was beckoned for. The raft lurched as he got settled in, but thankfully felt sturdy. O’Brien readied his paddle and Odo mirrored him, tensing in anticipation.

“You ready?” O’Brien called over the roar of the tumbling water, looking back over his shoulder. Odo nodded. 

The Chief pulled the rope inside and the raft went crashing through the rapids, bucketloads of water splashing in from either side. Both passengers scrambled to paddle as the boat wildly jostled them around. Wild water dragged them briskly down the river and over turbulent currents. The raft slammed to the bottom of a slope and O’Brien yelled for Odo to steer them away as sharp rocks jutted out from one side of the river and nearly pierced the boat. Odo moved the boat as quickly as he could, narrowly avoiding the rocks. The raft started to veer off too far to the other side, but O’Brien made up the difference and paddled with all his might until they were facing forwards again. After that, they fell into a steadier rhythm, slipping over the next few rapids with relative ease.

O’Brien passed the early sections quietly. Occasionally, he muttered a curse, yelled a command, or made some comment or another about how bad he’d anticipated a spot to be, but for the most part, he remained committed to concentrating on the river. That was perfectly fine by Odo. It gave him more time to remember how exactly he was supposed to be doing this.

No matter how many times he did this, he suspected it would always feel unnatural. The paddle felt oddly heavy in his hands and it never felt right to be pushing through the water with an oar instead of melting through it as a liquid himself or paddling downstream in the shape of a sea-tiger or a krelo bear. Every time the raft jolted over a difficult section, anxiety spiked in Odo and he instinctively looked to see whether the Chief was as alarmed. O’Brien never was. Still, he wasn’t getting out of it now, so he set aside his unease and pushed through the water as much or as little as O’Brien thought was best.

After paddling along for what felt like an eternity, the raft made it past the early rapids and reached a calm section of the river where it drifted easily. O’Brien let out a deep breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Looks like we made it,” He commented with a deep exhale, sounding proud of himself.

Odo didn’t have anything to say to that, so he hummed a brief assent. O’Brien paused, then nodded. He started to dip his paddle into the water again, then stopped and looked back.

“Are you feeling alright, Constable?” The Chief asked. Rather than reply, Odo grimaced. Not this again. The engineer, noticing his lack of enthusiasm, put up his hands in a show of surrender. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that you seem a little quiet lately.”

Odo tilted his head, his silence as loud as the rapids crashing against the rocks. O’Brien at least had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Well, extra quiet. I haven’t been seeing you around the Promenade either.”

“I don’t live out of it.”

“Well, no, but you sure spend a lot of time there most days. What, with the barkeep running around like he does, getting up to who knows what.”

Odo harrumphed. “That’s for sure.”

The two lapsed into an uneasy silence. O’Brien kept looking back and opening his mouth, then deciding better of it and turning back around. Odo examined the light reflecting off of the nearby water, trying his best to ignore him.

“You know, I’ve had some real tough times out there myself,” O’Brien offered finally. Silently, Odo willed him to drop it, but the Chief didn’t seem to notice. “When I went through that right terrible mess with my clone a year or so ago, it was . . . well, it was just awful. I couldn’t begin to figure how to come back from that.”

“What did you do?”

“Took some time off, got some counseling. Keiko was a real help through all of it. I couldn’t imagine working through all of that without her and Julian.” He looked at Odo very sincerely. “It’s good we’ve got people like them, huh? A little bit of love goes a long ways when you’re hurting if you let it.”

Odo didn’t know what to say to that. He really didn’t want to be a part of this conversation at all, so he took an easy out. “Your wife seems very helpful.”

O’Brien’s face lit up, a sugary smile stretching from ear to ear. “Oh, she is! Keiko’s a right angel, let me tell you. You know, just the other day, I was having a right awful shift and when I came on my lunch break, she showed me all these wonderful little cards she’d had all the kids make. Said ‘Thank you, Chief O’Brien’ and everything. Just the sweetest, really made my day.”

“Mm.”

“So, how are you settling back in? Having any trouble after all that time with the Cardassians?”

“I really would rather not talk about it,” Odo grumbled.

“Oh, me neither,” O’Brien said casually. Odo blinked. He must have looked confused, because O’Brien’s face colored with embarrassment and he held up his hands again. “Not that I mind. I mean, if you want to talk about it, that’s fine by me. I just meant that everyone seems so focused on talking about everything all the time when sometimes you just want to do something quietly. You know what I mean?”

Odo relaxed, the tension draining from his face. “I do, actually,”

“See, you get it! That’s what I like about you. You appreciate a good bit of quiet. Julian means well, but he’ll talk your ear off.”

Odo huffed a half-laugh. “Sometimes when he starts talking, I think he’s never going to stop.”

“Tell me about it. I hope he’s not been bothering you too much lately.”

Hesitating, Odo adjusted his grip on the paddle. He searched the depths of the water below for something to say to that without revealing too much. Looking back, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for how irritated he’d been with Bashir lately. He did want his privacy, but the man only wanted to help. “He means well. I’m not a very good patient.”

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up too much. The man’s my best friend, but he can be a right pest.” O’Brien’s tone shifted, the annoyance dissolving into something more conversational. “I think he might be on some kind of a spectrum, honestly. Not that that’s what makes him a pest, he does that just fine on his own. It’s just . . . reading people, it’s hard for him.”

“A spectrum?”

“Human thing. I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you. I shouldn’t be speculating, anyway.”

Odo frowned, confused, but since the Chief dropped it, so he pushed his curiosity aside and shrugged the topic off.

“Now then,” O’Brien decided, digging his paddle back into the deep water and throwing a glance over his shoulder with a determined grin. “What do you say we conquer the rest of these rapids?”

“Might as well,” Odo nodded, mirroring his stance with his own paddle.

“It might be difficult ahead. What rafting song are you in the mood for?”

“I’d really prefer none.”

“Oh, come on. You always make me sing by myself.”

“I’d get used to it if I were you.”

Despite his disappointment, O’Brien kept paddling on. Under his breath, he muttered some song about big rivers and some cities that Odo guessed were in Earth. 

Something in the distance gurgled, water spraying into the air. Somehow, Odo got the feeling that wasn’t a good sign. The closer they got, the louder the noise got until it crescendoed to a screech hammering in his ears. O’Brien leaned forward in the raft, squinting as he scanned the horizon.

“Uh oh,” He muttered.

Odo’s head snapped to the Chief, alarm sparking, only to find the man’s sights firmly set on the rapids ahead. “What?”

“It looks like there’s a hairy section up ahead.”

“A what?”

“It’s a current, and a nasty one.”

“What do we do?”

“Hold on and get ready to paddle.”

Odo tightened his grip on his paddle. Silently, he wondered what he was even doing here. It wasn’t the first time, either. Even O’Brien seemed a little uneasy in spite of his general thrill for the sport. As they glided down the river, the current only got stronger, dragging them faster and faster toward the twisting wreck ahead. Dread haunted the air in the boat as it rode uneasily over hills and valleys in the water, but there wasn’t anything either of them could do about it now.

Odo barely had time to brace himself before the worst of it hit. The rapids slammed against the boat, screaming an explosion of shrieking noise. The impact threw the raft into the air. O’Brien yelped, snatching the side of the vessel. Odo reached to do the same, but the second his fingers touched it, the raft slammed against the water again and threw him out of the boat and into the river below. His body plunged under the water, icy cold blackness shocking his senses. Terror stabbed him. He couldn’t find any air. There was nothing to grab onto except more pummeling water. He could feel himself sinking, but he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t even breathe. The thought that he was going to die raced through his mind and for the first time in too long, it horrified him.

A rough hand grabbed his wrist and suddenly he was being dragged up above the waves. His head crashed above the surface. O’Brien stared down at him from the raft, both paddles back with him. Panic cleared and he remembered with embarrassment that he didn’t need to breathe. 

“You alright?” O’Brien asked, handing Odo the paddle before he even had the time to nod. Shame bit him as he realized that he could easily have made it back without help. That whole time, he should have been shifting back to the raft and had the whole ordeal over with in an instant. He shouldn’t have needed to be rescued. 

“Well, come on, then. No time like the present,” O’Brien said, an eyebrow raised quizzically. The lack of impatience on his face took Odo by surprise. He wasn’t pitying, either. Just ready to move on. A hand stretched out to him, offering, and Odo took it. Together, they pulled him up and back into the raft.

“It helps if you tuck your feet in,” The Chief added, using his paddle to help push their raft out of the cove of tree branches it had drifted into. “Makes it easier to stay inside the boat.”

Odo nodded, setting to work on helping the raft back on track. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After that, the trip felt easier. There were still rocks and heavy currents, but the two of them were working together in-sync now. Three times before they finished, O’Brien got tossed overboard, but Odo was quick to pull him back in and it was never long before they were back to working their way downstream. They whiled away the afternoon riding in the summery sun. Despite himself, Odo found himself enjoying the day as he watched a rainbow of fish he’d never seen before swim around his paddle. By the time the shore was in sight, exhaustion weighed his limbs down and the heat was starting to burn, but it still seemed like a shame to go so soon. 

Even though it was a program and he didn’t have to, O’Brien tied the raft back up to the dock when they reached the shore. Odo got out first while O’Brien finished up. When the raft looked properly secure, Odo offered him a hand and they pulled him out onto the dock together with relative ease. He waited for the older man to finish gathering the paddles and brushing the debris off of himself before heading back to the bank.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Things just haven’t been running the same since you left,”  O’Brien remarked. He scoffed goodhumoredly. “Heaven knows, it’s made my job a lot harder. No wonder Sisko was in such a hurry to get you back, am I right?”

Odo tilted his head, a warm feeling gathering in his chest. “Was he?”

“Oh, yeah,” O’Brien responded like it was obvious. “Well, everyone was – Major Kira, especially – but he was running around like there was no tomorrow, calling up everyone he could call to pull in everything to bring you home.”

Frowning, Odo mulled over the information. “Why bother? What’s the point of risking a full crew and the Defiant over the possibility of one person?”

O’Brien shrugged. “This is Starfleet. And we don’t leave men behind.”

“I’m not in Starfleet.”

“That doesn’t make you any less one of us,” O’Brien insisted seriously. Odo stilled, overwhelmed by the sentiment. He found himself at a loss for words and unsure what to do with the information the Chief had given him. O’Brien’s expression lightened and he barked a laugh. “Besides, between Julian and Dax, I think I might go insane without someone who appreciates some good, old fashioned peace and quiet.”

Odo snorted, listening wordlessly as the man kept going.

“I don’t mean to be critical, but that guy, Eddington, he’s not going to cut it. I mean, he’s trying his best, but the whole station just falls apart when you’re not keeping things in line. No one knows it like you do.” O’Brien looked up, his eyebrows knitted nervously and his expression embarrassed. “I don’t suppose you like him much, do you?”

“No,” Odo glowered, just the mention of the man putting a souring his mood. O’Brien’s anxiety washed away immediately, his easy smile slipping back onto his face. “I don’t.”

“Good. I didn’t mean any offense to your team.”

“None taken. He wasn’t my pick.”

The Chief nodded. He walked a little further until he reached the shack he’d gotten the paddles from, propped them up against the side, and hung his life jacket on a hook on the door, inspecting his work with his hands on his hips until he was sure they wouldn’t fall. Satisfied, he stepped away and brushed his hands off.

“So, I’ll expect to see you around then?” O’Brien asked, looking back at Odo with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

“Soon,” Odo agreed. A warm smile rose across O’Brien’s face. He nodded.

“Good,” O’Brien concluded, then said nothing more. Relief filled Odo’s chest. If there was anything O’Brien could be counted on for, it was leaving everyone else’s private business alone. Odo had always appreciated that about him. Talking to him never came with any expectations.

After O’Brien headed out, Odo lingered. He glanced back at the river behind him, all the once angry, crashing waves gone with only calm, sparkling water dancing by in their place. He almost couldn’t believe he’d thought this same river was unmanageable earlier. Without the Chief, it would have been. Maybe it was a calm in the storm, maybe in an hour, the river would be raging again, but they’d made it back to shore. Looking at it, he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. Things might be okay after all, provided someone could show him how to steer.

Shifting into a runtish mouse, he scampered out the door, following the dark, shadowy far wall down the winding staircase and out the bar without being seen.

“Quark hardly seems to do any work these days,” Garak commented one day over a cup of tea.

Odo glanced up from the crime reports he’d been reading. Excitement to actually do something rushed through him, only to crash and burn into bitter disappointment as he remembered that it wasn’t his job to deal with that. Not until the week was over, at least.

“If he spent less time breaking the law, he’d have more time to do his job,” Odo scoffed, feigning disinterest. Garak smiled. As he took a sip of his Tarkalean tea, he fixed Odo a look as if he were missing something painfully obvious.

“Is that what you’ve taken from it?”

“I’ve known him a long time. He’ll take any chance he can get to scam and smuggle whatever he thinks he can get away with.”

“I don’t doubt that. But do you think it’s perhaps possible that there’s more to it than that?”

Odo frowned. “What are you implying?”

“You don’t find it interesting that he works perfectly well right up until your temporary leave of absence and then suddenly and mysteriously can’t seem to bring himself to concentrate on his work?”

“Why should I? He has more freedom to meet with his contacts when I’m not monitoring him. He knows that.”

“And again, I don’t doubt that. However, I have spent time aboard this station during lax periods of security and never known him to behave quite like this.”

Odo glanced back at the security reports. It was obvious what Garak meant. But the idea of it sat strangely with him. He didn’t know what to make of that and he didn’t particularly want to know, so he pushed it down. “With the cutbacks to security the Federation has been making recently, the station hasn’t been this vulnerable in years. He’d be stupid to not take advantage of the opportunity.”

“Odo.” Garak looked at him intently, appearing exasperated that he even had to have this conversation. “I know as well as anyone that you’re an intelligent man. Surely, you’ve noticed that there’s more to it than that.”

“If you’re honestly suggesting that he misses me –” Odo snorted, shaking his head and with it, shaking the idea out of his mind.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Have you met him? There isn’t anyone he cares about more than a few strips of latinum, least of all me.”

Forging a mug of raktajino into his hand, Odo took a sip of the flavorless impersonation of liquid. For once, Garak didn’t seem to have a retort. He glanced down uneasily at his hands as he folded them together. 

“There are people who’ve missed you, Constable. I . . . apologize if I didn’t give you the impression that that might be the case.”

Odo blinked, momentarily speechless. He didn’t like this side of Garak. The constant lying was at least a challenging game that he got satisfaction out of playing, but this genuine vulnerability unsettled him. It made him feel like Garak had won without even trying. He forced a neutral expression, trying his best to appear unbothered. “Possibly. But I find it hard to believe that Quark is one of them.”

“Not that I’d dismiss those other little friends of yours, but I find it the least surprising that out of anyone, Quark is among them, considering his history with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?”

“No. I don’t.”

Garak smiled. “In that case, I’m afraid I’ll have to let you work that out for yourself, Detective.”

Scowling, Odo chipped away at the rest of his drink. They sat quietly, Garak making slow progress on his breakfast while Odo silently read over the last few crime reports. A couple of Bajorans passed by toward the direction of the bar. Odo’s gaze trailed after them, following their every move. They didn’t seem immediately suspicious, but it wouldn’t be long.

“How are you enjoying your time off?” Garak chimed out of the blue, almost sickeningly chipper. It would ordinarily be a polite question, but he didn’t need to ask and it was obvious that he found the answer amusing. Even if Garak wasn’t intentionally rubbing how much Odo hated this in his face, it was too early for this.

“Fine,” Odo grumbled, fixing him a glare. “How’s your relationship with Bashir recovering?”

“I suppose I deserved that. Actually, I ran into him by the shop yesterday.”

“And?”

“He seems to be calming down. Albeit very slowly.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Odo grunted, a humorless half-laugh tumbling from his mouth. His cup had grown empty. He refilled it without taking his eyes off of Garak. “I’ve found that humanoids generally tend to consider it in bad form to kidnap and torture their colleagues.”

Wincing, Garak squeezed his folded hands tighter together. A guilty discomfort flooded his demeanor. Odo was only used to seeing it in guilty people sitting in jail cells, not in Garak and certainly not over himself. It made Odo almost regret saying anything at all. Almost. That is, until the man started looking at him with a sad sort of sympathy that made Odo feel self-conscious. Then, he really did wish he’d kept quiet.

“It still bothers you,” Garak observed with a pity that wasn’t unkind, but was more than unwanted. It unnerved Odo. He didn’t look away, so Odo forced himself not to either. Gathering up every ounce of social niceties in him, he softened his demeanor. Befriending Garak was like walking on shaky, uncertain ground, but he was learning quickly that he could be sure that he didn’t want things to stay in this place where the man tiptoed around upsetting him.

“I wish I could say it didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Odo said. He lifted his cup to his mouth, then stilled. Garak still had that sorry expression on his face. It was getting annoying looking at it, and frankly, it had never suited him well to begin with. Odo set his mug back on the table, frowning. “You don’t need to apologize every time you see me.”

“I do regret it if you take offense to it, but this is the first time I’ve apologized to you since we’ve returned to the station.”

“The first time out loud, maybe. You don’t disguise your intentions as well when you have nothing to hide.”

“As much as I applaud your deductive skills, I find myself wondering why it is that it bothers you quite this much.”

Odo tensed, apprehension growing. Not a minute earlier, he’d thought Garak had been considerably upset, but already, he’d returned to the game he made most every conversation into. “I don’t want to talk about this”

“Believe me, it’s not a topic I’m thrilled to relive either.”

“Then why are you bringing it up?”

“I simply find your forgiving nature quite remarkable. If I were in your position, I don’t know that I would find such generosity especially appealing.”

Setting down his mug, Odo stared at Garak, his face stony. “Do you want me to revoke my forgiveness?”

“Not at all. I’m simply curious about how you came to that decision. It was rather soon, wouldn’t you say?”

“Why bother holding a grudge? Like I said, I understand why you did it even if I think you were wrong to do it.”

“For most people, that wouldn’t be enough.” Garak glanced brisky at the few early rising residents meandering around businesses in hopes of finding something open. “If you asked any of these shopgoers, I think you’d find that most of them would consider such an experience as yours quite . . . impactful.”

“Not my first time. The Bajoran government is full of men who were involved in practically the same thing when they assisted Doctor Mora and I still work for them,” Odo grumbled, bitterness stabbing his voice. 

“Is that right?” Garak asked, his smile tightening just so and the light catching his always eerily wide eyes in such a way that Odo didn’t feel like he was imagining the threatening gleam he saw in them. The response Odo had planned died in his mouth. He tilted his head, examining the man who’d been his captor just days before.

“I wasn’t hired to avenge every injustice that was ever done to me. I do my job. I keep order on the Promenade and that’s it.”

“Ah, but you’re here anyway. From what I understand, Sisko’s put you on leave. You’re free to avenge as many injustices as you see fit, and yet you choose not to.”

“If I wasted time avenging every grievance I have with everyone who’s hurt me in the past, I’d never get anything done.”

“Maybe so, but wouldn’t the personal satisfaction cover the cost? A clear conscience is a clear mind, after all.”

“I’m not interested in Cardassian platitudes. Say what you’re trying to tell me or move on.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you afford the people who hurt you in particular far more leniency than you afford to any other criminal?” Garak tilted his head, his facade of innocence doing little to dampen the discomfort of his wolfish persistence. A sharp glint in his eyes fractured his air of politeness, but he still smiled a quiet amusement. Like all of this was just a game that he played to hear Odo admit something he already knew. Odo tensed, setting his jaw. “I’d dare to say that you forgive us before you’ve had time to really think about what it is that we’ve done.”

“I think about it plenty,” Odo gritted darkly, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you? But not enough to have me arrested, Constable? Or Doctor Mora, or any one of his apparent plethora of accomplices in the Bajoran government that your very close friend Major Kira has no small amount of influence in?”

Odo bristled. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to be fine with it or else I won’t be fit for the job. My superiors aren’t going to tolerate having a security chief who can’t handle dealing with every civilian or diplomat I don’t get along with.”

“That may have been true five years ago, but this station has changed hands. No one is forcing you to do this.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not childish enough to waste my life pining over the past. I don’t need to process anything.”

“Everyone has needs, Constable,” Garak pressed, his voice so low it rumbled and scraped against the floor, staring deep into Odo with an intensity that unnerved him. “What do you need?”

Odo froze, his eyes widening. He opened his mouth, but nothing came. Even without saying a word, Garak demanded an answer, but Odo didn’t know what to say. Everything – his life, his work, his relationships – had always been about other people. At least, he’d thought that they were. What he needed – or worse, wanted – wasn’t even a consideration.

“I don’t know,” Odo admitted weakly.

A bittersweet smile painted Garak’s face. Even if he didn’t say it, his eyes were apologetic. “No, I didn’t think so.”

It was midway through what should have been Alpha Shift when an older Bajoran passerby let Odo know that Major Kira was looking for him. As soon as he heard, he took off to a quieter level of the Habitat Ring. He wasn’t proud to be hiding from her, but Kira’s opinion of him mattered too much to risk destroying by letting her find him like this.

He had figured he was safe there, but few people were really safe from Kira when she really wanted to find someone. All those years in the Bajoran Underground hadn’t gone to waste, after all. She spotted him before he even realized she was across the hall from him and it wasn’t long before he found himself cornered in some vacant crew quarters.

“Odo!” Kira chirped, smiling that particular smile of hers that only appeared when she wanted his help with something that Starfleet definitely wasn’t interested in giving her permission to pursue. “Just the person I want to see.”

“Does Sisko know you’re coming to see me?” Odo asked dryly. Like always, she wasn’t intimidated.

“Does he need to?” Kira asked, so overly saccharine sweet that he scoffed. She held out a PADD that he could only assume contained information on whomever she wanted to apprehend. Kira was many things: a good actor was not one of them. “He trusts his first officer. Besides, I only need you to look into one of the crew members of that Bandi vessel that just docked. It’ll be over so fast it won’t even need his consideration.”

“In other words, he doesn’t know and you’re going behind his back because he told you not to,” Odo summarized. He took the PADD anyway. As always. Excitement brightened her expression. He rolled his eyes. “I’ll look into it.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

Odo snorted. Under normal circumstances, he would have been more hesitant to take the case, but nearly a week had left him itching for something to do other than avoid Quark. Any job she could possibly offer him was a welcome one.

Running a search for records on this Bandi crew member revealed a criminal record, but nothing immediately indicating a particularly serious criminal. Petty theft primarily composed his criminal history. On the surface, at least. Further searching and several calls to various governments and contacts, however, revealed that a number of civilians across a scatter of planets had accused him of collaborating with the Cardassian government. None of them had lived more than a week after that.

“Typical,” Kira scoffed, eyes glued to the security computer screen. “I can’t believe how many of these bastards got away with this for so long.”

“Some people will do anything to turn a profit,” Odo grumbled. He flicked through the PADD, carefully scanning each page. “If you kept up with the security reports, you’d find it less surprising.”

Kira raised an eyebrow. “I guess I should.”

Head churning with information, she set her sights on the documents again. Her fingers twitched with angry energy as she read. Every document she flicked through only seemed to exasperate her more, turning her twitching to scoffing and eye rolling. Odo tried to keep his focus on getting through all the files in front of them, but he could feel her stirring near him, filling the room with her discontent. 

“What’s the point of even having the Federation here if we still have to sneak around to catch these guys?” Kira snapped. “For the sake of the Prophets, we won the war and we’re still letting them go because the Federation doesn’t care enough. I mean, what’s next? We just start handing our own over to the Cardassians again because Starfleet can’t be bothered to handle things?”

Odo snorted. “Lately, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Kira paused, frowning. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Odo amended. Internally, he kicked himself for being so careless. “Nothing at all.”

“Nothing,” Kira repeated skeptically. She folded her arms across her chest, her work on the panel now fully abandoned. “Odo, you’ve been acting strangely ever since you got back from that Cardassian ship.”

“Have I?” Odo asked simply. It wasn’t really a question. Kira narrowed her eyes. She stepped closer.

“Something happened back there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Me neither,” Kira agreed in that overly amiable way of hers that was really anything but. She blinked and the facade dropped, replaced by razor sharp determination. Odo avoided eye contact, trying to focus on the work at hand. “But I’m going to find out.”

A hand pulled Odo’s shoulder away from the panel and he suddenly found himself facing Kira. For an instant, images of a Cardassian prison cell flashed through his mind and terror gripped his throat. Only an instant. Then it was gone and he found himself again back aboard DS9 staring down the steely gaze of one of his only real friends in the world. Guilt twisted painfully inside him.

“Talk,” She ordered. 

Returning to the interrogation facility, frankly, seemed about as pleasant of an option, but what could he do? There was no getting around her once she had her mind set and Odo had never been any good at lying. Dancing around it wouldn’t satisfy her anymore He stared silently at her, searching for alternate possibilities to the truth only to come up blank. If he had to explain what was really the matter, he wanted it to be as quick and painless as possible, but that was looking to be more and more impossible.

Kira was looking at him strangely now. There really wasn’t any way he could get out of this. Not without making her more upset than she already was or spinning some stupid story on the spot. Shifting uneasily, Odo lowered his gaze to the far wall just past her eyes.

“Tain required information to proceed with his mission,” Odo explained slowly, chewing on every word. “He convinced himself that the Federation had hidden some secret information about the Founders from the Romulans and he was determined to find out what before he made it to their home planet. Garak might be well-informed on daily happenings in the Promenade, but this fell outside his jurisdiction.”

He hesitated, the weight of Kira’s gaze heavy and unwavering. It settled uncomfortably on his shoulders and made his tongue feel like lead. “It did, however, fall under mine. At least, Tain believed that it did.”

“ Good luck! ” Kira snorted, barking a laugh. “He couldn’t have picked a worse person to take. They couldn’t get information out of you if they–”

She stopped, suddenly. Her eyes grew wide. Horror etched itself into her face, twisting her brows and bleaching her face to a ghostly white. Odo looked away.  

“They tortured you,” Kira realized aloud, barely more than a whisper. Odo nodded. There was little else he could do. Silence fell. A heavy, mournful silence that seemed to last an eternity and which burned into Odo and made him want to scream and cry and melt into the floor all at once. Suddenly, Kira’s hand tightened around his shoulder, her nails digging painfully into his imitation of a uniform. 

“They tortured you! ” Kira snarled. Odo looked up to find her face contorted into the very picture of rage, eyes alight with fury. Rage burned in her dark eyes, her mouth contorting into a twisted thread. Panic shot through him.

“I never told him anything useful,” Odo added. “Personal details of no relevance to the station, that’s all.” 

“I don’t care, Odo!” She spat. Even while her face contorted in fury, her eyes grew wide with hurt. Odo froze. “I don’t care if you told them every last thing you know about the Founders – I care that they tortured you! ”

Kira seethed breathlessly, her fingernails digging into the palms of her tight fists. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish, questions and righteous fury rising and dying before she could express them. Then she stilled. Her mouth snapped shut as her expression darkened.

“The Cardassian spy – did he know?” She demanded. Odo hesitated again. Ironically, Garak had proven himself to be a strange comfort in these last few days. He understood Odo’s world without having to ask and he didn’t push too far past Odo’s boundaries. It wasn’t worth being angry with him, but if Bashir didn’t see it that way, there was no chance in hell that Kira would. Still, lying was hardly any use. Not with her.

“He did,” Odo admitted. Kira’s eyes lit up, glowing furiously. Her face, red with rage, contorted into a snarl.

“And he stood back and did nothing? Kira spat, practically yelling now. Odo glanced at the walls, trying to remember if anyone was next door and whether or not these quarters had been sound-proofed. “That cold-blooded, cowardly –”

“I wouldn’t quite say nothing, ” Odo bit back, bitterness seeping from every word. Kira’s head whipped back around and his mouth snapped shut. One look at the expression on her face and he regretted saying anything.

“And what exactly was he doing in the meantime? Frolicking around the ship with the Romulans?”

Odo didn’t say anything. He looked at her, silently but intently. Kira frowned, her anger cooling just enough to let puzzlement seep in through the cracks. Her eyes tracked him, looking him up and down for answers. Brows furrowing, she tilted her head. Then, her face went slack. Dark eyes widened, filling with disbelief. 

“Tell me he didn’t –”

“I understand how it sounds,” Odo began hesitantly. When she looked at him like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he pushed forward before she could interrupt. “I won’t excuse it. It was wrong. He knows it and I know it. But he was under orders. He needed to do it to earn back Tain’s trust.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Kira muttered hollowly. She stepped backward, barely keeping herself from tripping over her feet. A dull haze clouded her expression – a calm Odo knew better than to trust. Her eyes locked back onto his. Clarity instantly burst through the fog like a phaser blast. Anger exploded onto her face, her teeth baring. “I’m going to kill him!”

“You can’t kill him, Nerys. It’s against the law.”

She barked a harsh, humorless laugh, her eyes manic with rage. “You think I care about the law ? I stopped caring about the law when Sisko let a Cardassian war criminal torture you and then walk around free like nothing happened! For the sake of the Prophets, he didn’t spend one day in prison!”

“You might not care about the law, but I do. And it’s my job to protect it whether he’s getting off easy or not.”

“And whose job was it to protect you? Prophets, if we just ran this station ourselves this wouldn’t be happening, but no , the high and mighty Federation needs to be here to make sure we don’t make the mistake of being impolite to any of the monsters who should have been locked up and tried for war crimes the second the occupation ended!”

“Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like more than to see a lot of those men behind bars, but we won’t have a station at all if we operate on vigilante justice.”

“Oh, yeah, because the way things are going now is just peachy, ” Kira snapped, spitting venom with every word. “Did you know they told us not to go after you?”

Odo paused. It wasn’t surprising news. At this point, he was used to his employers not caring one way or the other whether he lived or died. Somehow, though, he doubted Kira would find that helpful to hear. “I wasn’t told that exactly, no.”

“Sisko called up the Federation to tell them everything and they told us to leave you out there because it would be in their best interests to let the Dominion, the Romulans, and the Cardassians tear each other apart.”

“The Federation isn’t full of risk-takers. They never would have liked risking the Defiant and all of its crew to get one officer that they’ve never even liked.”

Kira’s eyes narrowed, anger simmering just below the surface. “If you were a Federation officer and not Bajoran, they would have gone back for you. Three years of giving them the best security any of their space stations will ever see, and it’s still not enough all because you won’t get down on your knees and kiss their hulking, imperialist feet.”

Odo harrumphed. “I suppose I should give them credit for their consistency.”

A short burst of bitter laughter ripped itself from Kira’s throat. The silence left between them afterward felt comfortable. Odo figured there wasn’t much left to say, but he looked back at her and that hope shriveled and died. Hurt burned like ashes in her eyes.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” She whispered. Pressing his mouth into a tight line, Odo avoided looking at her. “ Odo. It’s been, what? A week? And you just decided to suffer in silence all this time? What was that supposed to accomplish?”

“I–” He started, stumbling to find the right words. “It didn’t seem important enough to mention.”

“Odo, you’re my best friend. I consider it important when you get abducted and tortured. When things like this happen, I want you to tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kira said, too much lingering anguish squeezed into her words to let them ring true. She ran a hand down her face, sighing heavily. “ Prophets, Odo, don’t be sorry. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

Odo nodded.

“Alright,” He said, unsure what else there was to say. Absently, Kira nodded back.

When she looked at him, Odo found he couldn’t read the emotion on her face. The quiet stretched on. She picked up the PADD she’d read from earlier and scanned a few pages without really reading anything. It clatterd back onto the desk just as quickly.

“I’m taking you to see Doctor Bashir,” Kira ordered. She snatched his wrist – gently, Odo noticed – and strode toward the door. Alarm bells rang in his head. He planted his feet on the floor, melting his arm into water and sliding it out of her grasp. Kira stumbled, tripping over her feet in the sudden absence of Odo’s weight. Her wide-eyed surprised melted into annoyance as she whirled around. He could see the argument forming, but he cut her off before she could get to it.

“I’ve been to see him already.” Kira’s eyebrows shot up, hostility fading. This, apparently, was surprising news. Bitterness bit his voice and Odo scowled. “Apparently, he doesn’t think I’m qualified enough to do my job for the time being.”

“He put you on leave?” She asked. To his relief, she didn’t sound judgemental, just surprised. 

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“A week.”

“That’s why you’ve been gone all this time?” She asked. Odo nodded slowly, choosing to say nothing. A deep sorrow clouded her eyes. “Does Sisko even know about all this?”

“Unless Bashir’s told him, no. And considering that Garak is still a free man, I doubt that he has.”

Kira stared at him for a long time. Odo had never personally cared for the way that she stared only because she had such a strong talent for reading people. It made his false skin crawl and left him feeling vulnerable and exposed while she dissected his thoughts and feelings at a glance. She heaved a sigh.

“Oh, Odo,” She whispered, a deep, grieving sympathy in her eyes that reminded Odo with a sinking feeling exactly how sickeningly well she understood. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve this.”

“I know. Torture is a crime.”

She smiled, a sorry affection deep in her eyes. Stepping closer, she sighed again and let her head drop. It seemed she’d used up the last of her anger. For now, at least. Tomorrow might be a different story altogether.

Odo startled at the feeling of her hand again on his shoulder. He glanced at it, then back at her. She was looking at him again. He felt strangely helpless, as though he could do nothing but watch and wait to see what she would do. Kira’s hand slipped from his shoulder to his shoulder blade and pulled him to her chest. He froze. She let out a shaky breath and squeezed him. Hard. It didn’t last long, not as long as he was surprised to find that he would have liked. Her hand rubbed his back comfortingly and then it was over. She pulled back, her hand again on his shoulder, and stared silently at him for a long time.

“Get some rest. I can finish this,” Kira ordered finally. Her voice had softened into a quiet rustle, devoid of any of her usual authority.

“I’m not that fragile. Besides, I like the work,” Odo countered. Kira nodded and looked at him for a few seconds longer before returning to table where the investigation lay unfinished. When Odo followed her, she offered no protest. For the rest of the shift, they worked together in a comfortable silence, exchanging notes and documents without saying a word. 

It turned out that the evidence she needed to take action against her criminal had been right under their noses the entire time. Some old acquaintances from the Cardassian occupation had to be contacted. It was a risky move since they were still playing pretend that Odo was dutifully on leave and the contacts could reveal his involvement to Sisko at any time, but Kira was convinced she could tinker with the technical security details enough to make sure it slipped past him and Odo trusted her judgement. By the end of the shift, enough testimonial and DNA evidence against the man had been gathered to take further action. That, Kira would have to do by herself. At least for another day and a half. When she stood to leave, she squeezed Odo’s shoulder and smiled before walking away toward the holding cells.

And then he was alone again. Odo found that the place where her hand had been felt cold without it there. The emptiness left him with an aching longing to feel the pressure of touch again. He tried to push away thoughts of Kira and the bar and the looks on the faces of people he realized he missed, but they haunted his mind, nagging at the backend of every thought no matter how badly he wanted to forget them. His hand rose to his shoulder where Kira’s had been and squeezed it. The feeling came as both a comfort and a poor imitation that left him more aware of how hollow his body was than ever before.

He regenerated early that night, eager to escape all of these complications that threatened to drive him out of his office and toward people who had no need to see him like this. 

The following morning at breakfast, Odo noticed Kira stalking the Promenade more often than normal, hovering around the areas closest to the explosion. When he pointed this detail out, Garak reluctantly informed him that Kira had cornered him in the ruins of his shop the night before to make sure he was keenly aware of what to expect to happen to him should he so much as think of laying a threatening hand on Odo ever again. He wasn’t quite sure that he appreciated having people threatened on his behalf, but he couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread all the way to his fingertips when he let himself linger on the thought that Kira considered him worth protecting.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything you’d like to talk about before I clear you for duty?” Bashir asked, glancing hopefully at Odo as he pointlessly scanned him with a tricorder again.

“Not particularly,” Odo replied dryly. Bashir’s expression fell and something like disappointment crossed his face. He sighed. 

“I’m sorry that you haven’t enjoyed your leave, but as a doctor I couldn’t just send you back to work in good conscience after all that. Besides, it is regulation,” Bashir assured him between examining the tricorder and his upper head screens as if looking at them more would make them have something more helpful to say. 

Bashir set the tricorder down on his desk, diverting his full attention to his patient. His hand settled on the crook of Odo’s neck with a weight that grounded him. The skin of his palm warmed everywhere it touched, almost burning. He recognized the sensation, but the aversion he had once identified had melted away and revealed a craving. Bashir’s dark eyes bore into Odo, a soft but deeply serious expression on his face. 

“Odo,” Bashir began, sounding just as gentle yet insistent as he looked. “Before you go, I need you to know that you are loved and have a home aboard this station. I want what’s best for you, and so do Sisko and Kira and Dax and everyone else here who loves you. You aren’t in this alone. Alright?”

Odo blinked. He wanted to protest, but found himself trapped between Bashir’s genuine expression and the heavy weight of a light gesture of affection on the crook of his neck. Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

“If ever you need anything – anything at all – we’re here for you,” Bashir pressed softly. He squeezed Odo’s shoulder, a gesture that was becoming familiar as of late. “ I’m here for you. Even if you find it embarrassing and no matter how poorly it reflects on people I happen to care about.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

A warm smile melted across Bashir’s face. He nodded briskly. That seemed to satisfy him.

“Now, seeing as there’s nothing I can do for you and you have completed your scheduled time off, you’re free to go, but do try to take it easy,” Bashir informed him. A playful glint appeared in his eyes and he pointed a scolding finger at Odo’s face. “No week-long kidnapping situations or I’ll be very displeased.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Odo offered, smiling despite himself. He waited for Bashir to look back at his reports before continuing.  “Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

Surprise colored Bashir’s face, then faded into a kind smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “It’s no trouble at all. Let me know if anything else comes up.”

Humming his approval, Odo nodded once more and turned to leave.

Stepping out onto the Promenade as chief of security complete with his comm badge again felt like he’d reformed from a century of regenerating Finally, this was something he knew. 

Sisko had seemed hesitant to let him go back to work. Unfortunately, he’d gotten around to reading the reports, and even though both Garak and Odo had both silently agreed to leave the whole interrogation aspect out of their respective reports, there was apparently still enough left in them to have him concerned. The addition of the whole mental health leave thing didn’t help things either. He trapped Odo in a rather long session of poking and prodding to try and get more information. Sisko was smart, after all. Smart enough to realize that something wasn’t quite adding up and smart enough to know it was something big enough that he instinctively couldn’t let it go. Eventually, though, he got tired of listening to one-word answers and had to admit that the station needed its security up to standards again, so he agreed to grant Odo his job back.

His first shift passed relatively uneventfully. He dodged a few questions about his absence and bid a brief hello to overly smiley senior officers and one cautiously relieved Garak. Miraculously, nothing inside the bar required his attention and so he continued dutifully pretending it didn’t exist. Avoiding the place was irrational, but the thought of facing the barkeep now after a week of hiding from him almost made him regret leaving his bucket that morning. Instead, he dove headfirst into his work.

Because nothing in this quadrant could ever work out entirely in his favor, most of his day was spent sorting out a customs dispute over some barely legal imported animals. It was probably because of how exhausting the squabbling Flaxian traders were to deal with that he couldn’t keep his mind off of the usual tasks that would keep him occupied. By this time any ordinary day, he would have stopped by the bar no less than three times. He tried to shake the thought from his mind, but it stuck to him like a parasite.

By the end of Gamma shift, the last of Odo’s good judgment left him and he went wandering towards Quark’s establishment. The familiar fluorescent lights mixed uncomfortably with the dark interior – a design choice that perfectly appealed to a very select few drunkards and questionable individuals not worth associating with. This late in the night, few customers lingered – fewer than average, he noted – but some of the regular customers recognized his presence with unusual attention. Morn pointed drunkenly in his direction and whispered something to a nearby Bajoran who glanced quickly between him and the bar with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Following his gaze, Odo laid eyes on the man behind the bar for the first time in half a week.

Something was wrong. All the customers around him bustled and chattered, their glasses empty and pockets full, but Quark stood frozen. His fist clenched around a cleaning rag he kept glued to the counter as part of a since abandoned cleaning project. Now he wasn’t even looking at it. He stared into an empty glass, a detached, disturbed look on his face. Odo frowned. He crept toward the bar, adjusting the mass in his body as he walked to  keep every cautious step silent.

Even as he reached the counter, Quark’s concentration on nothing failed to break. He leaned against the bar counter, biting his claws so hard that Odo realized with surprise that he might break a nail. Standing inches away from him, the distress on Quark’s face became clearer and Odo’s discomfort grew. He cleared his throat. Quark lurched back, jerking the rag across the counter with a start. 

“Odo?” Quark squeaked, his voice laced with an emotion Odo didn’t care to identify. A whirlwind of emotions flashed in his eyes, but it was the split second of devastation that caught Odo off guard. He couldn’t recall ever seeing such an expression on Quark’s face, let alone directed at him. The space where his stomach would have been lurched. He ignored it. Probably just a few bars of gold-pressed latinum’s worth of stolen goods missing. Maybe a profitable backdoor deal fell through. He narrowed his eyes.

“Quark,” He greeted, inclining his head curtly. A quick glance around the room didn’t reveal anything immediately suspicious, but knowing the things that happened at the dingy bar, that hardly proved anything. He raised his head, forcing himself to look superior. “You seem awfully on edge today. I don’t suppose you’re in the mood to confess something?”

Quark swallowed. He stared silently up at him with questioning eyes slightly narrowed. Odo’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet.

 “I haven’t done anything to worry your pretty little head, calm down,” Quark said finally. His voice sounded perfectly casual, as if everything was normal. He grabbed an open bottle of kanar from the counter and popped its crystal stopper back in. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

Quark set the bottle back on the shelf behind him and started off toward the other side of the bar. Odo scowled and folded his arms across his chest. “And what are you off to do in such a hurry?”

Quark waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing, nothing! Just closing up.”

Odo blinked. “It’s early.”

“Good work, Detective. You cracked the case,” Quark snarked like it was the easiest thing in the world. He moved to the center of the room, facing the remaining patrons, Odo close behind him. “Bar’s closed! Come back to Quark’s tomorrow and we’ll happily serve you and any friends you want to bring back with you!”

Heads popped up across the room, confused chatter rising as patrons turned to discuss the unexpected change with the people next to them. People sat, not moving a muscle, until they realized Quark was serious. Most of them got up to leave fairly quickly, though some tossed longing looks at the rack of alcohol behind the counter or complained loudly enough that half the bar could hear. 

For his part, Quark didn’t seem bothered at all. No bitter explanations. No complaints about lost profit. Odo tilted his head, watching closely as Quark shooed a couple of lingering, drunken Andorians away. His brow furrowed in confusion.

“You never close the bar early.”

“Yeah, well, I’m feeling extra tired tonight. I’m making a special occasion.” Quark faked a drawn-out yawn and shook himself awake. He glanced over at Odo like that was supposed to prove something. Odo scowled. Quark, as far as he could tell, didn’t seem any more tired than normal. Melodrama was a special skill of his. Whenever he was the least bit unhappy, everyone had to know, so either he’d had a change of heart over night or something was going on, and Odo had a hard time believing the former. He narrowed his eyes, tracking Quark’s every movement. 

“Besides, these Klingons keep staying up late drinking and when those brutes get their fill, they wreck my holosuites so bad I’d be lucky to break even! In fact, I’ll make more latinum tonight than I did every other day in the past month!”

“How convenient for you.”

Quark looked over at him and put a hand over his chest. He didn’t stop cleaning the sticky, purple stains from a table that had been occupied by a group of Betazoids and their Vulcan friend. “I just can’t believe you. I haven’t done anything wrong and you’re here to accuse me of something criminal! ”

Odo harrumphed. “Whatever you’re doing, there’s always something criminal involved when it comes to you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a legitimate business owner that you’re harassing because you’ve got some kind of power kink or something. I’m telling you, I haven’t done anything but serve my customers. Is that such a crime?”

“You’ve barely been at work all week, Quark,” Odo leered. When Quark looked baffled, Odo smiled smugly. “Your clients talk. You should hear the rumors.”

“And you’d believe them? They’re drunks, Odo. They couldn’t tell you which quadrant this is once they get a few drinks in, let alone where I go in my free time,” Quark retorted. “Yeah, free time. I’m a free civilian who doesn’t deserve to be harassed all the time by a brutish cop like you. Remember?”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to share where it is that you have been, then?”

“Me?” Quark blurted, incredulous. “Where have you been? ”

Odo’s mouth snapped shut. Hiding from you wasn’t the answer he wanted to give, but there wasn’t anything convincing he could say that wouldn’t involve the sacrifice of more information and Quark’s impatience was growing by the second. He tilted his head. “I wasn’t aware you were concerned about that.”

“I’m not ,” Quark snarled. It wasn’t particularly convincing. “ You’re the one who went missing in the Gamma Quadrant for a week and then decided to give me the silent treatment as soon as you got back without even giving me a good reason!”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Odo spat. He squared his shoulders and marched toward the exit.

“Odo. Odo! ” Quark seized Odo’s wrist, yanking him backward with surprising force. Again, the touch burned, but it didn’t hurt. Odo blinked, staring back at the barkeep in utter bewilderment. Quark’s wide eyes, wild with frustration and panic, stared back at him with an intensity that startled him. Odd. Quark held up a placating hand, still keeping the other fixed around Odo’s wrist. Even odder. “I’m sorry, okay? Just – stay here.”

Odo stared at him like he’d grown a second head, turning over the request in his head. Coming from Quark, it sounded like a foreign language. Everything about him hovering around the bar was horrible for business – Quark told him so at least once a week. By all accounts, he should have been ushered out with a yell of good riddance just for good measure.

“You’re acting strange,” Odo accused, his eyes narrowing. Quark fixed him an exasperated look.

“Congratulations, we’ve got something in common,” Quark snarked. Before Odo could respond, Quark abruptly turned and headed behind the bar with the station’s security chief in tow. Odo let himself be pulled along. Even he wasn’t entirely sure why. He would have been willing to chalk it up to curiosity or plain bad judgment, but he knew that wasn’t quite it. Something about how Quark was acting didn’t sit right with him.

“What exactly do you want with me?” Odo asked suspiciously.

“In the back, in the back,” Quark muttered. Odo huffed.

“If this is one of your filthy holosuite ideas –”

“Relax, I won’t make you do anything fun. I just need to see something.”

“And I’m coming with because . . . ?”

“Because you’re a pest and I don’t trust you not to turn the bar inside out looking for clues the second I leave you alone in my establishment. Now stop asking questions.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Odo grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Quark pulled Odo into a backroom that the changeling had only seen on a handful of scattered occasions. The last time he’d been inside, it’d been stacked halfway to the ceiling with crates of illegally imported Romulan ale. By comparison, it looked practically empty now.  The furnishings were decadent – shining garishly like latinum against a backdrop of rich colors and patterns that all seemed to clash – but few. In the center of the room, a pair of armchairs sat together, a side table pushed awkwardly out of their way. Behind them, a collection of oddly shaped chairs of all manner of colors and sizes clustered around a round table. They must be worth something somewhere, Odo figured, or else he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want them.

“Sit,” Quark ordered, gesturing vaguely toward the series of frankly unappealing seating arrangements. Odo raised a brow.

“Where?”

“Anywhere, just sit down.”

Odo thought about not doing it, of turning and leaving without giving Quark the time of day. But he couldn’t do it. Not without knowing why the Ferengi was acting like the galaxy was going to implode . He perched himself on a leather armchair of a deep forest green and waited. Curiously, Quark pushed another chair of the same design closer to Odo’s until their knees knocked against one another before taking a seat himself. He pulled his legs underneath him, raising him up just slightly above his ordinary sitting height. Quark licked his lips nervously – nervously , as if this evening couldn’t get any stranger – and brushed some invisible dirt off of his jacket.

“Let me see something,” Quark said, reaching for Odo’s face. At first, he only sat there, staring into Odo’s sunken eyes. The questions Odo had meant to ask died on his tongue under Quark’s unwavering gaze and the fiery sensation of hands crawling across his face. Then Quark’s beady eyes dropped and started scanning every miniscule detail of Odo’s face as if he’d never seen it before. When he apparently didn’t find whatever it was he was looking for, he moved on without so much as a word of explanation.

Quark nudged Odo’s head to the side, carefully scrutinizing it from every angle he could get at like he was gouging the price of some valuable stolen goods. His claws ghosted over the skin of Odo’s face, ever finding somewhere else to inspect, ever tracked closely by Odo’s careful eyes.The gentleness with which Quark touched and nudged surprised him. His better judgment told him to pull away, but he couldn’t find it in himself to move. Every slight movement, every brush of claw or skin against his sent shivers through his body. 

“What are you doing?” Odo asked, suspiciously but without any of the usual bite. All of the everything that was happening to him right now had him taken so aback he couldn’t even be bothered to be irritated.

“Just looking,” Quark muttered, nudging Odo’s head downward to get a better look at the top of his imitation skull. Why Odo let him do it was beyond even him. “I’ve been hearing the Cardassians aren’t too careful with their things.”

Odo froze. So Quark knew then.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Quark said, sounding distracted. A hand trailed down Odo’s face, leaving behind the ghost of warmth. He knew he didn’t need to hold his breathe, but Odo couldn’t help holding his breath anyway. “That’s right.”

Slowly, the hand pulled back from his face. When it was gone, Odo wished he would put it back. His head still hung from when Quark had moved it and he wasn’t too eager to move it. Looking him in the eye, knowing that he knew every miserable humiliation of these last two weeks, hardly sounded appealing. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of shutting his eyes. Then that moment passed. And misery coiled in his chest but he looked up anyway, if only to get it over with. Quark sat there, staring at him in concern like he was seeing the changeling for the first time in his life.

I must be quite a sight , Odo mused bitterly. Quark sighed.

“Listen,” He ordered seriously. As if he could possibly expect Odo to take orders from the likes of him. “This doesn’t leave here, alright?”

Odo scoffed. “I should hope I’d be fired the day I agreed to promise you that.”

A scowl crossed Quark’s face. “Just come here.”

And then Quark’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and squeezing him into a hug. Instinctively, Odo grabbed at Quark’s back. Shame flooded his mind the second he realized what he’d done, but Quark was already adjusting to the weight and he saw his window of opportunity to leave and act like none of this had ever happened closing. After a moment’s awkward adjusting, an arm curled around Odo’s back while the other settled at the base of his neck. Ringed fingers delicately misted over Odo’s head with decidedly un-Quark-like softness. Soothingly, like how a person would calm a frightened animal. 

Odo froze at the touch, pieces starting to fall into place. So that was what this was all about. Quark, for whatever reason, wanted to comfort him. He must have dug into the reports he and Garak had submitted to Sisko and worked out the unspoken details written in between the lines, or maybe Bashir had told him, or Dax, or he’d heard Garak telling Bashir, and then when Odo came waltzing into the bar –

“Odo,” Quark breathed. His fingers curled tightly around the pale hair at the base of Odo’s nape. Claws just barely scraped the skin of his neck. Odo shuddered despite himself. “Talk to me, Odo.”

He tried to say something. He tried to tell Quark that all of this was a misunderstanding, that he was fine and he didn’t need pity from the likes of him, but his throat trapped the words before they could make it out. All that threatened to come out were dry sobs that the few remaining scraps of his pride religiously refused to free. His form wobbled for an instant and Quark’s fingers squeezed his uniform’s back tight.

He didn’t want to be here. Every scrap of pride and common sense in his body screamed at him that he shouldn’t. Not when he was so close to breaking. He couldn’t have gone through all that torture just to break now. But it had been so long since he had been this intimate with anyone and so recent that any touch at all had meant nothing but threats of pain. As much as he wanted to reject it, his body and his mind screamed for comfort and it felt so good to be held and petted and treated like he meant something. 

“Stupid, stupid changeling,” Quark hissed, not a single drop of venom in his disapproval. His voice was soft and shook and his hand buried itself in Odo’s hair as he stroked the changeling’s neck. Even as he complained, Odo could hear more hurt and worry in his voice than he’d ever heard Quark express before. “What kind of idiot does something like that? Goes and gets himself kidnapped and then doesn’t even tell anyone? Just disappears without telling me anything?” 

The Ferengi made an irritated clicking noise. “I don’t even know why I bother with you. You’re worse than the hu-mans.”

There was something relieving about the familiarity of listening to Quark complain about him. It made Odo feel like he had a sliver of normality to hold onto. But then it would fade and he could hear the emotion behind every insult and he remembered how vulnerable he was and had no idea what he was even doing. A tower of a horrible tangle of sickeningly raw feelings loomed over his head, lurching dangerously every second longer he chose to stay. He had to keep it from coming down. He needed to. If he wasn’t being taken seriously, he didn’t have anything, anyone, anywhere left to go.

Then again, here he was: as pathetic as he’d ever been and Quark still wasn’t leaving. And if even he stayed, then maybe there was something to what Doctor Bashir had been saying that morning. Love was a little strong, but then again, so was this. So was hunting him down all week even though the doctor was busy just to make sure he took care of himself. So was threatening Garak in a righteous fury to keep him from being hurt again. So was breaking into his office just to check on him.

“Odo?” Quark whispered again, just scared enough to push Odo over the edge. Something inside of him broke. Something hardened and bitter that as it broke, opened the floodgates for a storm of hurt and terror and loneliness and feeling that suffocated his carefully replicated lungs and left him stranded. He scrambled for more of Quark to hold onto, latching onto fistfuls of fabric like they would disappear. 

“ Quark, ” Odo choked out. Rough and gravelly and trying to keep too much of the feeling he’d been trying so hard to suppress out, but failing so, so miserably. He didn’t know what he wanted. He couldn’t know. Only that he wanted to be far, far away from the miserable cell where he’d broken so badly. Even though it was already gone, in his head it was like he’d never left and he could find no words to adequately phrase that feeling. He only wanted to be safe, but nothing in the world seemed enough to make him feel out of danger. Claws curled tighter against his nape.  

“I’m here,” Quark croaked, as if he didn’t sound distraught himself. Odo wanted to be irritated, but strangely realized that if he were humanoid, he might be crying. His body convulsed with tremors that refused to go away no matter how much he tried. Quark kept repeating himself quietly, more for himself than Odo. “I’m here. You’re here.” He let out a shaky breath. “You’re here.”

The full weight of the past two weeks pressed down on Odo’s shoulders, stealing the last of his energy to fight this. All of it felt so tiring that he gave in and let his head rest on Quark’s shoulder. He took in deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm down. His body hurt. Fingers pawed at his back, scratching against his uniform and snagging the fabric.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Quark muttered, his voice muffled as he pressed his face closer against Odo’s neck. “I’ve never met anyone so dumb in my entire life. I should sue you for all the stress you caused me. I probably lost five years of my life thanks to all the worrying I did all because you’re so stupid.”

Odo hummed noncommittally, squeezing his hands tight around the fabric clenched in his fists. Quark sighed and ruffled his hair. Under his breath, he kept mumbling accusations. Odo thought about clarifying that he didn’t mind, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to do it. Instead, he just tried to keep from drowning and let himself be taken care of.

Quark held him for a long time after that. Who it was for Odo couldn’t quite say and he didn’t think Quark could either, but at times, he held Odo so tightly that no one in the quadrant could have ripped him away. Another day, the prospect of being squeezed to his most bothersome criminal’s chest would have disgusted him, but now it soothed the itch for touch that had plagued him all week. 

Occasionally, Odo could hear him muttering things. Nothing of much significance, just the sorts of things that humanoids seemed to like. Assurances and promises that couldn’t really be promised and yet felt reassuring anyway only because Quark had always been so good at keeping his word when he really meant it. Occasionally, he picked up complaints about how much worry he’d caused or what a stupid, stupid idiot he was for disappearing like that, but none were backed by any real bite. He kept suddenly switching between trying to be comforting and complaining with a jarring lack of transition between the two. It was so like him that Odo almost laughed.

At some point, Odo’s eyes fell shut. In the darkness, everything faded to background noise except for whispers and the sound of Quark’s shallow breathing. A deep calm fell over him. The tension drained from his shoulders and his hold on the fistfuls of fabric he’d clung to loosened. The shaking slowed until it faded into nothing. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt like this – like everything was actually okay, if only for a little while. 

Eventually, Quark stopped petting and just squeezed, letting Odo’s hair fall in messy strands from where he’d mussed it. When his hold slackened, Odo pulled back. Not because he wanted to. He had to. Without the excuse of whatever it was that had just happened, heavy silence loomed over them. Neither of them talked. Too much needed to be said and too much had already been said. They’d gone too far to take it back, but neither of them knew what to do now. Odo kept his eyes trained on one of the dark, leather armrests of Quark’s chair.

“You didn’t tell me.” Quark huffed finally. Odo noticed his arms were folded tight across his chest. He looked like he was pouting.

“So you’ve said,” Odo muttered. When Quark glared at him, he sighed. “What would it have changed if I had?”

Quark paused, then gestured vaguely toward their seating arrangement. A fair argument, all things considered. Odo harrumphed instead of agreeing with him and Quark rolled his eyes but regarded the changeling with what, Odo realized with a jolt, looked like it bordered on affection. Before he could dwell on it, it disappeared and Quark was scowling again.

“You lied to me,” He accused in a tone that suggested Odo was meant to feel bad about that. He really, really didn’t. “You said you were okay.”

“Believe it or not, I had other concerns at the time,” Odo grunted. Quark scoffed, shaking his head.

“Never trust a changeling.”

“Because you’re just the picture of honesty.”

Quark glared at him like he usually did, only this time instead of retorting, he fell silent. Quiet was rarely a good sign with him. He was noisy and boisterous by nature and it felt unnatural to see him any other way. It was a worse sign when Quark started staring at the table to avoid eye contact. Odo watched him with growing unease as helplessness splattered all over his scrunched face.

“I thought you were dead,” Quark whispered, rubbing the rings on his fingers with his thumb.

Odo grimaced. Already, he missed arguing. At least he knew how to do that. This feelings stuff that they were incredibly already back to was outside of his skill set. “I’m not.”

“Thanks, I never would have figured,” Quark snorted. Then his face fell and his expression turned sad. His voice softened into a murmur, trembling with vulnerability. “You were gone for a long time.”

“I would have come back sooner if I could have,” Odo said quietly. Quark scoffed. His apathetic display would have worked better if he weren’t twitching his fingers and glancing at Odo’s hand like he wanted to snatch it for security. Odo rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you missed me.”

“Of course I didn’t.” He plastered a strong exterior back up, but the words came out weak. Even he couldn’t convince himself he meant it.

“Of course.”

A pause. Then Quark softened, a hint of hurt slipping through the mask of impassivity. “You didn’t have to disappear, though.”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Odo fiddled with his fingers. It seemed important to try and be sensitive so he lowered his voice. “I’m sorry if it bothered you.”

“You should be.” Quark glared at him. “I have customers to be thinking of. What am I supposed to do whenever some brute starts a fight or threatens my loyal patrons? Starfleet’s security ”

“My mistake,” Odo grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I should have thought of them.”

“Why’d you talk to Garak before me?”

“What makes you think I did?”

“I hear things,” Quark replied. With a wave of his hand, he brushed off the question, but fell quickly back into a look of exasperation. “He’s the one who did all this. Aren’t you mad at him?”

Odo hesitated, mulling over how to answer in a way that didn’t sound delusional. “He’s . . . Something of a friend.”

That wasn’t the answer Quark wanted to hear. His face went slack and his eyes wide in utter disbelief as he waited for Odo to take it back. “Did you hit your head recently? Smack your head on a wall really, really hard or something?”

“Very funny. I don’t have a brain to hurt, Quark.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Quark snorted. Looking him over and promptly realizing he wasn’t going to get very far with this, Odo sighed.

“He’s a free civilian. I can’t just decide he doesn’t exist anymore and neither can you.”

“Right, well, you can tell your friend that he’s not welcome around here anytime soon.”

Odo blinked. “You’re banning a customer?”

“Shows what you know about business. It happens all the time.”

“In other businesses, maybe, but not yours. You’d be losing profits. There’s nothing to gain from that.”

“There’s plenty to gain. My sanity, for one. Besides, I can’t be expected to risk my generous customers by allowing some Cardassian agent to go around disappearing people before they lose at Dabo.”

Quark had missed him, Odo realized. Immediately, his defenses fell. The complaining was easier for him because it didn’t come with risks, but it was a facade that wasn’t tricky to see through. What had happened must have bothered him more than Odo had realized, though, if he was angry enough to take it out on a customer just because that customer was responsible for making him go away. Or, he thought – though he knew it was a dangerous idea even as it crept into his head – if Garak was around the bar, then Quark might worry that he would try something again.

Despite himself, Odo found the sentiment touching.

But that wasn’t good for him. For either of them. As nice as this felt now, he didn’t want this to loom over them as Quark tip-toed around him forever. Things needed to be normal again and for that to happen, he couldn’t accept this. Garak couldn’t be a social pariah forever.

“I don’t hold it against him,” Odo decided. “You shouldn’t either.”

“What?” Quark gaped. His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped open. “What do you mean you don’t hold it against him? I can’t go five minutes without you harassing me about some petty theft, but he tortures you and you’re fine with it?”

It was a fair question and one Odo couldn’t answer right away. He’d often thought about it himself during his week off, mulling over whether he really knew what he wanted and whether it was right to want what he wanted.

“I don’t know,” He admitted. His honesty didn’t do much to satisfy Quark. “It wasn’t personal. He wanted to go home and it was the only way for Tain to trust him again.”

“I miss Ferenginar sometimes, but you don’t see me going nuts like that. I’ll bet you anything this hunk of space junk is better than dusty, old Cardassia anyway.”

“It doesn’t always work that way.”

“It should,” Quark bit back, scowling. “You know what I think?”

“Hm?”

“I think you just don’t care because it’s you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, look. If they dragged off anyone else to do to them what they did to you, you’d be working yourself into a puddle until you found everyone responsible and locked them up until the end of time, but anytime you’re the one getting hurt, suddenly it’s not the same and everyone deserves second chances. I don’t think you care as much about yourself.”

He looked away. Just thinking about it felt like too much right now. He longed to deny it, but exhaustion hung so heavily on him that he couldn’t find it in him to fight against it anymore. “Maybe.”

Whatever Quark had meant to say after that died in the air. Even without seeing it, Odo knew he was staring. Odo dug his nails into his skin. Waiting for Quark to say something made him want to tear his hair out. He heard the Ferengi clear his throat.

“Wait here,” Quark said finally, as if there was any point in Odo sneaking off now. He stood and disappeared from the room. Moments later, he reemerged with a bucket in hand that looked like, but was not, Odo’s own. When he shoved it towards Odo, Odo noted that it looked latinum-plated. “Stay here tonight.” 

“In the bar?” Odo asked skeptically. Quark didn’t seem deterred.

“You can melt down into this and I always keep a bed in the back.”

You’ll be safe here, was the unspoken promise.

“Alright,” Odo said even though he couldn’t even begin to know why. Quark’s eyes widened. He blinked, his mouth hanging open, like he couldn’t believe Odo had actually agreed to it. Understandable, Odo figured, since he couldn’t believe he had either.

“Okay,” Quark stammered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll just – I’ll just go change then.”

He set the bucket down on the chair next to Odo and hurried off. Without him there, Odo looked around the room again. Nothing had changed – all the garish furniture hadn’t moved an inch – but it felt so different. His head spun, struggling to grapple with all of this. Everything that was happening felt like part of an elaborate dream. 

He could leave now – turn into a mouse or a flea and sneak out the way he came without Quark even knowing he was gone. He could go back to his quarters, regenerate, and pretend none of this ever happened. He could, but he wasn’t going to. 

With a clack of clawed feet against the tile floors, Quark reappeared in the doorframe, vibrant silk pajamas hanging loosely from his frame and a couple of pillows clutched in his arms. They looked at one another, taking in the fact that this was really happening, until Quark awkwardly shuffled into the room and Odo tried to focus on something else. The barkeep dragged a sofa over to the mess of chairs in the center. Shifting the pillows into one arm, he pulled the cushions out until a bed folded from the sofa. Odo watched, curious, as Quark made sure his makeshift sleeping arrangement looked sturdy before snatching a blanket from one of his chairs. He hopped onto the bed and fluffed his pillows before arranging them at the head of the mattress and flopping down on top of them with a satisfied sigh. 

“Have you seen the new guys Starfleet sent to cover for you?” Quark asked, a toothy, mischievous grin on his face. Odo tilted his head.

“No.”

Quark snickered, kicking his feet like it was the funniest thing in the world. “They’re like squealing little worms. Yesterday, one of them tried to stop one of those big Arcadians that showed up a few months back. You know those guys?”

“The self-proclaimed philosophers?”

“Yeah, the idiots. Anyway, they borrowed some junk from the owner of the Klingon restaurant. These hu-man kids the Federation sent to run the place tried to ask them to return it and they fell on top of each other and broke their phasers.”

“You’re not serious,” Odo grumbled. His displeasure only seemed to delight Quark more and the man collapsed into a fit of laughter.

“I haven’t even gotten to the good part! One of them grabbed the replicator while he was trying to get up and somehow he got it to start spraying some of that sticky fruit juice Sisko’s kid likes so much.”

“You had nothing to do with that, I’m sure.” 

“Hey, I’m just an innocent bystander! It’s not my fault they couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. It got made the ground so slippery none of them could get to their feet, so they just sat on their butts and yelled at the Arcadians to come back.”

“Did the thieves end up getting caught?”

“Yeah, but not by those guys. You should have seen it. That huge Klingon that they stole the stuff from stepped right over them and got his stuff back himself in like two minutes. He went right back to his place, meanwhile all the security’s still sliding around the floor trying to get up like they were born yesterday.

“It took so long for them to fix it that the Vedecs started coming out from their little thingy in that churchy prayer place of theirs and they were all shaking their heads and muttering about what the Prophets let this place come to. It was great! Best thing I’ve seen in a while. It’s been two weeks and they’re still tripping over each other every time they try to catch someone.”

“And Starfleet wants me gone,” Odo muttered, rolling his eyes as a small smile crept onto his face despite himself.

“Starfleet was pissed! ” Quark crowed, shrieking with laughter. “Half the staff of their precious little station was gone on a vigilante mission and all the guys they sent to prove they know best couldn’t tell their feet from their hands!”

“Oh!” He exclaimed, practically beaming with excitement. “Did you hear about what happened with the Deuridium shipment last week?”

When Odo shook his head, the Ferengi took off talking a mile a minute. Odo leaned an elbow onto the table and rested his head on his hand, listening contentedly as Quark rambled on and on about the latest drama he’d missed until he was too tired to remember any more.

Eventually, Quark drifted off and Odo’s human form began dripping off of his face. This time, though, he wasn’t scared to see it happen. He wasn’t dying, he wasn’t getting dragged at gunpoint through hell; he was just tired. The last thing he registered before melting into the latinum bucket and letting himself drift into unconsciousness was, for the first time in a long time, a feeling of safety. After a lifetime adrift, this was home. At least for now.